


Give Me Up For Gone

by cellorocksmyworld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Politics, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:13:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellorocksmyworld/pseuds/cellorocksmyworld
Summary: AU Voldemort was destroyed at the end of the First War, but nobody remembers how. The only clue is a hazy memory Sirius has of a small boy Greyback attacked on the night in 1985 when the war ended. Eight years later, a young man named Remus Lupin begins to teach at Hogwarts. As he challenges Wizarding Britain's view on Dark Creatures, memories return, and lives are changed forever.





	1. Prologue

_The boy's eyes were far older than the rest of him. Strange, that this was what Sirius noticed as he struggled to remain conscious. He felt like he should know this boy, this small, wild-looking creature crouching wearily above him. He felt like he owed this boy everything. And he certainly felt like he should warn him about the enraged werewolf bearing down on his exposed back. But Sirius could only watch, eyes wide in helpless horror, as Greyback seized the already weakened child in clawed hands, throwing him like a ragdoll across the forest clearing where his skull impacted sharply with a large boulder. The small form lay still, lifeless, and even as Sirius willed himself to do something – ANYTHING – Greyback grabbed the boy by the hair, and was gone with a crack. The dark forest blurred behind tears and confusion as Sirius slowly lost his fight with the black…_

Sirius woke in a warm bed, his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. He stared at the ceiling as he once again contemplated his only memory of the night Lord Voldemort was destroyed. Eight years on, and still none of them – not James, not Lily, not Harry – had any idea what happened on that fateful night in 1985, when Voldemort tried to murder the Potters. But somehow, the most powerful and evil wizard in the world had been killed, and the only clue they had was a memory that didn't even make sense. Who was that boy? What was he doing there, in the woods behind the Potters' house? Had HE killed Voldemort? Because the madman was definitely dead. It had been proven. But HOW?

Sirius sighed. Eight years of racking their brains and experimenting with reverse memory charms had yielded no answers, and they had finally decided to stop questioning this incredible gift of life in a world of peace. Somehow, miraculously, they had all survived the darkest period in Wizarding Britain's history. He was married, with two beautiful children and a third on the way. Harry – once in mortal danger from Voldemort's single-minded quest to prevent a bogus prophecy – was about to start his third year at Hogwarts, healthy and happy (apart from when his little sister, Hannah, was bugging him). Friends and family were everywhere to be found, and Grimmauld Place was a very different house than the one he grew up in, with various Potters, Weasleys, Tonks's, Longbottoms, and other hangers-on traipsing in and out for visits and holidays. Snape and his family had even been known to grace Sirius's doorstep, and the occasions were becoming surprisingly enjoyable as time passed.

All in all, life was good, and the former members of the Order of the Phoenix were moving past the horrible memories of war. But on mornings like this, when Sirius awoke with sweat on his face and a cry on his lips, he always spent several moments thinking about that nameless boy, wishing he could have done something to help him, and thanking him with every ounce of his soul. For though he could not remember a thing apart from his recurring dream, some part of Sirius knew without question that all of them owed their freedom, if not their lives, to the child Greyback killed all those years ago.


	2. Chapter 1

There were no empty compartments by the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione got on the Hogwarts Express. The best they could do was the compartment at the very end of the train, where a disheveled young man was sleeping, a frayed Muggle baseball cap covering his face. They looked at him curiously as they shuffled in, stowing their trunks under the seats. He didn't move, still fast asleep as they seated themselves as far away from him as possible.

"Who d'you suppose he is?" Ron whispered, pulling his pet rat – a fat brown creature named Max – out of his pocket and setting it on his shoulder. "He doesn't look like a student."

And indeed he didn't. The young man was dressed in worn Muggle clothing, faded jeans and a threadbare flannel shirt revealing a lanky, rather skinny form. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, large feet propped up on the bench opposite, his head leaning against the window. Though they couldn't see his face, a mop of sandy brown hair peeked out from underneath his cap, and they could see a healthy amount of blond stubble along his jawline. Though she would never admit it to Ron and Harry, Hermione found herself subtly ogling him, wishing the cap wasn't covering quite so much of his face. Ginny and Hannah tripped in to join them, and by the way their eyes lit up as they saw their mysterious traveling companion, Hermione knew she wasn't the only one who found the young man intriguing.

The trip passed in relative peace. The man must have been dead tired, because he slept straight through four rounds of Exploding Snap, the arrival of Neville, and a blazing row between Ron and Ginny when she found Max eating her Honeydukes chocolate. The world outside the train window got darker and darker as they neared Hogwarts. The children were just beginning to think about putting on their school robes when the lights on the train suddenly flickered and went out. The train screeched in protest as it came to an abrupt halt, and they all cried out as they were flung from their seats.

"Hannah, get off me!"

"Ow, don't sit here, _I'm _here!"__

__"Max! Where's Max! Did you squash him Ginny?"_ _

__"I _wish _–"___ _

____"Quiet!"_ _ _ _

____The pitch-black compartment was silenced immediately by the authoritative tone. A crackle, a spark, and suddenly they could see by the light of a blue flame that the tired young man seemed to be holding directly in his palm. He looked around in concern._ _ _ _

____"Is everyone alright?" They nodded, brushing themselves off and slowly getting to their feet. Before anyone could say another word, though, a horrendous screech of rending metal came from the back door of the train, as though it was being forcefully pulled from its hinges. The young man's eyes snapped up, an expression of deadly focus on his face as he strode to the door of the compartment, just as two shadowy figures blocked it. The children gasped in fear as the blue flame illuminated the sunken faces of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov, the only Death Eaters that remained at large in the world. The pure malice on their faces made something in Harry quake, but the sandy-haired man stood his ground, his voice clear and confident, no wand in sight._ _ _ _

____"Good evening. Is there something I can help you with?" The calm words belied the clear tone of warning in his voice. Dolohov sneered and raised his wand._ _ _ _

____"Yeah, you can get out of our way. We want the Potter boy, and we don't much care what happens to the rest of you." The tips of both of their wands were now angled directly at the young man's throat. Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as he fumbled for his wand with sweating hands, not sure what he was planning to do with it. He felt his sister's hand wrap around his upper arm in a trembling grip. This was her first train ride to Hogwarts, and Harry's jaw tightened in determination to protect her._ _ _ _

____Against all reason, the young man began to softly chuckle. He released his ball of blue flame, letting it float away from him, and continued to laugh as the Death Eaters' faces went from shocked, to confused, to livid. Bellatrix opened her mouth, a spell on the tip of her tongue, and suddenly the young man exploded into action. He grabbed both wands and jerked them upwards, scorching the ceiling with the Death Eaters' spells. Wrenching the wands away, he expertly hooked his leg around Dolohov's, bringing the larger man to the ground heavily. Grabbing a shocked Bellatrix by the hair, he twisted her around and wrapped his arm tightly around her throat in what appeared to be a Muggle wrestling move, rendering her unconscious in seconds. He let her fall to the ground unceremoniously, and strode over to Dolohov, who was trying desperately to scramble back towards the door they had so recently ripped from its hinges. The young man also took Dolohov by the hair but, foregoing the wrestling move, he simply slammed the older man's head against the solid wall. It was brutally efficient, and within a minute of the Death Eaters boarding the train, they were unconscious and bleeding on the floor._ _ _ _

____There was a shocked silence. The sandy-haired man looked down at the crumpled, black-clad figures, as if to make sure they were going to stay down. Then Ron let out a strangled laugh._ _ _ _

____"That was bloody _brilliant _," he said shakily, sweeping a shaking hand across his face. "Can you teach us how to do that?"___ _ _ _

______The young man turned to them and grinned, and the three girls immediately fell in love a little bit. He was not classically handsome – rather plain in fact – but his smile lit up his face, and his hazel eyes twinkled from behind his messy, sandy brown fringe. His skin was tanned golden, as though he spent a lot of time working outside, and three mysterious scars ran in parallel from near his left eye, across his stubbled cheekbone and down his neck, where they disappeared under the flannel shirt. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties – tall, but not overly so, with a medium build that spoke of hidden strength. Hermione was appalled to find herself blatantly checking him out, and barely listened when he replied to Ron, voice lilting with a hint of a foreign accent._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Well, I certainly hope I can, cause that's what I'm here for. I'm Remus Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."_ _ _ _ _ _


	3. Chapter 2

It didn't take long for the Hogwarts Express to get back underway. Aurors arrived within minutes, including Harry's father and godfather. As soon as the situation was under control, and the Death Eaters were bundled off in chains, James hurried to his children and pulled them into a fierce hug.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gripping them both tightly by the shoulders.

"We're fine," Harry said, forgetting his usual embarrassment at his dad's overprotective streak. "But they wanted _me _. Why?"__

__James's lips tightened in anger. "They seem to think you hold the key to bringing Voldemort back to life. Complete dragon dung, but they've never been known for their sanity." He smiled reassuringly at his son. "They're going away to Azkaban for the rest of their lives. Nothing like this will ever happen again, I promise."_ _

__Harry smiled back, and noticed that, behind his father, their new DADA professor was greeting Sirius and Frank Longbottom with friendly handshakes._ _

__"Do you know that guy, Dad?"_ _

__James glanced around. "Remus Lupin," he said, turning back. "He's helped out the Aurors in a few tricky situations, mostly in Eastern Europe, and he's brought in a lot of the Death Eaters that were still on the loose. The kid has a bad habit of antagonizing dragons too, if I understand Charlie Weasley correctly. I had heard that Albus hired him for the DADA position. Sounds like you guys are gonna have an exciting time of it."_ _

__He winked at them, pulled them into one last tight hug, shook Lupin's hand firmly, and bid farewell with the rest of the Aurors, who repaired the ruined door on their way out. Within minutes, the train was running smoothly again, as if nothing had happened. Lupin nodded pleasantly at them, then ambled up the length of the train, either to check on the other students or to find the food cart, as he had slept through its initial visit. He left a rather quiet group of children behind, as they reflected on what they had just witnessed. They were going to learn Defense from someone who could do that? Gilderoy Lockhart was positively laughable in comparison._ _

__"I have a feeling DADA is gonna be incredible this year," Harry finally said with a grin._ _

__Harry and the others were quite popular in the Great Hall during the welcoming feast, as news of what had happened on the train spread through the student body like wildfire. The story grew more and more embellished with every retelling, and before they had even set eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, most of the students had already decided that he must be the coolest wizard alive. Several occupants of the Slytherin table looked immensely put out by the whole affair, but they were in the minority._ _

__The Hogwarts staff all entered the Great Hall together, and children were craning their necks from every corner to catch a glimpse of this man who could take down two rogue Death Eaters with his bare hands. The young man was in animated conversation with Hagrid, gesticulating excitedly as they made their way to the table at the front of the hall, and seemed perfectly oblivious to the attention he was receiving from all quarters. He had thrown a worn black robe over his Muggle clothing – obviously unused to formal wizarding attire – and though he had removed his cap, his mop of sandy hair was in dire need of both a trim and a comb. But despite his haphazard appearance, by the time he and Hagrid reached their seats – still deeply engaged in conversation – at least half of the girls (and a few of the boys) in the student body were head over heels in love._ _

__The first years arrived, looking sodden and cold after their trip across the lake. Harry could see his sister among them – easily distinguishable by her flaming red hair – looking nervous as she eyed the tattered Sorting Hat at the front of the hall. Harry caught her eye and smiled encouragingly. As he and his parents had told her before, it didn't matter what House she was sorted into – they were all strong in their own ways. Though Harry somehow doubted that his baby sister – who didn't even step on ants if she could help it – would be sorted into Slytherin…_ _

__The hat burst into song, the first years were sorted, and Harry grinned proudly as Hannah jumped off the stool and made her way to the Ravenclaw table, smiling broadly as she joined some girls she was already friends with. Finally, when all the first years were in their rightful places, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet._ _

__"Welcome," he said, eyes twinkling at them all. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I know that we," he gestured to his fellow members of staff, "are all very excited to see you, and we hope you are looking forward to another year of learning. First years should know that the Forbidden Forest is – as the name suggests – forbidden, and no one should swim in the Great Lake unless they want a rather nasty surprise. Last, but certainly not least, I want you all to join me in welcoming a new member of our staff. He has traveled all the way from Bulgaria to be with us today, and I know that he has a lot to teach you all. Professor Remus Lupin!"_ _

__The hall erupted in applause, a few hearty cheers thrown in by those who had been in the last compartment. Professor Lupin, looking quite surprised at the warm reaction, got to his feet awkwardly and nodded at them all in thanks, smiling broadly. Hagrid looked up at him and said something, and the young man threw his head back and laughed, eyes twinkling as he sat down again and the hall gradually quieted down. Albus was still standing._ _

__"I leave you with just a few magic words: nitwit, faffer, hissyfit, and pop!"_ _

__And suddenly the tables were overflowing with food, the sound of happy children filled the air, and another year at Hogwarts began. At the Gryffindor table, Ron and Harry tucked in with enthusiasm. Hermione filled her plate more slowly, forehead creased in thought._ _

__"Professor Lupin is from Bulgaria?" she asked nobody in particular. Ron shrugged, his mouth full of steak and kidney pie._ _

__"Guess so," he said thickly before swallowing. "I think I actually remember Charlie talking about some barmy bloke who helped them wrangle a few dragons in Bulgaria. Said he was the craziest blighter he's ever known, and coming from Charlie, that's saying a lot."_ _

__Ron speared a sausage with his fork, taking a huge bite before continuing enthusiastically, obviously enjoying the rare occasion when he knew more about something than Hermione. "Apparently, according to Charlie, he actually got on a Hungarian Horntail's back and managed to steer it away from a village it was about to destroy!"_ _

__Both Harry and Hermione looked at him dubiously. Ron held his hands up innocently, half-eaten sausage waving like a flag from his fork._ _

__"Don't look at me like that, I'm just telling you what Charlie said!"_ _

__Hermione rolled her eyes at his terrible table manners and said, slightly haughtily, "Well I'm interested to hear his thoughts about what's going on in Eastern Europe. That's where a lot of Voldemort's followers went after the war, and the whole region has been in turmoil ever since."_ _

__Ron and Harry suppressed sighs as they sensed an oncoming speech, complete with long words and impassioned opinions._ _

__"It didn't help that a lot of Dark Creatures emigrated there after the war as well, to escape persecution here," she said. Surprising himself, Harry was actually intrigued._ _

__"Persecution?" he asked. She nodded. "Yes, the Ministry enacted a lot of very strict laws during and after the war, in order to monitor and control Dark Creatures like vampires, werewolves, warlocks, and veelas."_ _

__"Makes sense," Ron interrupted, looking defensive as she rounded on him. "Dark Creatures killed a lot of people during the war, of course the Ministry wanted to control them!"_ _

__Hermione's nostrils flared in anger. "And what about those who were innocent? Those who only wanted to live in peace? And they didn't just have the Ministry to contend with, there were all sorts of anti-Dark Creature organizations actively trying to kill them or push them out of Europe!"_ _

__Harry, sparing a moment to wonder how they had gotten on this topic, asked, "Why are you talking about this in the past tense? What's happening there now?"_ _

__Hermione looked at him in exasperation. "Harry, you're the one whose father is an Auror! He has to have done loads of stuff in Eastern Europe, how do you not know what's going on?"_ _

__"He doesn't talk to me about work!" Harry said defensively. Hermione gave a long-suffering sigh, and stabbed one of her potatoes with her fork._ _

__"I've read three books about this, but since you both have rather limited attention spans, I'll give you the condensed version. Five years ago, an anti-Dark Creature organization called Humans Against Werewolf Equality managed to get their hands on some sort of bomb, and they sent it by Portkey to a small village in Bulgaria, where a lot of Dark Creature refugees were living. Almost a thousand people died, many of them not even Dark Creatures themselves. When the public found out about it, there was an uproar. You two must have seen something in the papers when you were younger."_ _

__Harry looked over at Ron, who shrugged. "I wasn't reading the paper when I was eight, Hermione," he said. "I was learning Quidditch."_ _

__Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Typical. Well, there was an enormous backlash. Almost ten times as many people died in that village than in the entire war. There were enough liberal-minded people in the Ministry to push through some reforms of the laws, and the Aurors tried to find and dismantle H.A.W.E. But the bombing of that village destabilized the entire region, and made Dark Creatures all over the world extremely angry. Eastern Europe has practically been a war zone ever since. I wonder what Professor Lupin has been doing there…"_ _

__Ron looked up at the staff table where Lupin was now talking with Snape, leaning forward along the table and absentmindedly twirling his steak knife through his fingers like a baton._ _

__"Kicking ass and taking names, most likely," the red-haired boy said, a hint of jealousy in his voice as he turned back to his steak and kidney pie. "Hermione, this has been a fascinating history lesson, but classes don't start until tomorrow. Could we wait until then before we try and solve all the world's problems?"_ _


	4. Chapter 3

Nymphadora Tonks, 17-year old Metamorphmagus extraordinaire, was late to class. She was always late to class, but this time she had actually wanted to be on time. She muttered curses under her breath as she tripped on the hem of her new robes and almost fell on her face in the hallway near the DADA classroom. It was her first class with the new professor, and she had wanted to make a good impression – not because he was "so cute" or "mysteriously handsome" or any of her friend Penny's other stupid, girly reasons, but because she needed Professor Remus Lupin to give her a good letter of recommendation to the Ministry Auror Training Program. But of course Fred and George had decided that today was a good day to turn the corridor outside the first floor girl's toilet into a swamp. So here she was – late, slightly damp, and smelling strongly of mud. She skidded to a stop outside the classroom, taking a moment to wipe uselessly at the swamp stains on her robes (she didn't dare try a cleaning charm, it would only make it worse) before pushing the door open. And because her rebellious body always had to make an entrance, she tripped on her robes again as she walked in, and this time she could tell she was going to be painfully reunited with the floor.

Surprisingly, gravity didn't manage to bring her all the way down. Strong arms caught her before she fell very far at all, and she looked up into surprised hazel eyes.

_Oh shit. Way to make the worst possible first impression, Tonksy. Just attack the guy, why don't you? Better kiss that letter of recommendation goodbye... ___

__She heard giggles and snorts of laughter echo throughout the room as a bemused Professor Remus Lupin returned Tonks to her feet and took a step back. A small, stupid part of Tonks's brain registered that he had felt very strong and warm under the tatty long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. He stared at her, and she realized belatedly that she had been gawking at him for several seconds._ _

__"Sorry, sir," she managed to choke out, unable to morph fast enough to hide the blush spreading across her cheeks. "There was an – an _incident _on the first floor. The Weasley twins made a swamp and I got stuck and, well, here I am."___ _

____She didn't know whether to be relieved or even more embarrassed when the man's mouth began to quirk upward in an amused grin._ _ _ _

____"Nymphadora Tonks, I assume?" She nodded, pulling a face._ _ _ _

____"Just Tonks, sir. My mother named me Nymphadora in payback for giving her stretch marks."_ _ _ _

____Professor Lupin's laugh was warm and hearty, and his eyes twinkled in mirth as he grinned at her._ _ _ _

____"Fair enough, Miss Tonks. May I?" He gestured to her robes, and she nodded, though unsure what his intentions were. He waved his hand almost lazily at her sodden robes, and within seconds they were not only clean, but had been shortened slightly so she wouldn't trip as much. She looked back up at him and blurted out in shock, "You're not using a wand!"_ _ _ _

____He chuckled. "No, I'm not. But we can talk about that later," he said, gesturing her to a seat as he turned to face the class that had been so entertainingly interrupted by her unorthodox entrance. He was not wearing the traditional black teacher's robe, clad instead in faded khaki pants and a long-sleeved blue shirt with the top two buttons undone. A cord around his neck held a smooth, rounded white stone that rested right on his collarbone against tanned skin. Tonks grudgingly admitted to herself that he looked fairly attractive as he leaned back against the desk at the front of the classroom._ _ _ _

____"You haven't missed much, Miss Tonks, I was just telling everyone what I plan to teach you all this year. I've taken a look at what your previous teachers have covered, and it seems as though you've learned a lot of theory, and you've written a lot of essays, but you have received very little training in practical combat. Is that correct?"_ _ _ _

____There were nods and quiet murmurs of assent all around. Tonks spared a moment to note that his accent was decidedly strange. Mostly British, but with bits of Greek and something else mixed in. She was no expert on accents, but he didn't sound Bulgarian to her at all._ _ _ _

____He continued. "Right. Well, I think it's high time you all learned how to defend yourselves, and others. Despite what a lot of people want you to believe, the world is still a very dangerous place, and it's my job to make sure that you have the skills to keep yourselves and those you love safe. We'll start with physical self-defense, without wands. Then we'll focus on dueling, and other forms of magical attack and defense. Then we'll talk about strategy, and how to organize an offensive or defensive operation."_ _ _ _

____Daphne Podmore – one of Tonks's least favorite people, sitting in the front row with an indecently low cut shirt that was obviously designed to catch the new professor's eye – let out a small giggle at the intensity of his words. He glanced her way, and Tonks noticed with a small smile that his only reaction to her prominent cleavage was a slightly raised eyebrow._ _ _ _

____"I know it seems like a lot, especially since most of you aren't planning to enter the more dangerous career paths, but believe me when I say that violence and danger do not stick to set places or paths, and there may well come a time when you need to rise to the occasion."_ _ _ _

____Tonks felt her spine straighten at his ominous, and yet strangely inspirational words. She was more than ready to learn whatever he had to teach her. Maybe a letter of recommendation for the Auror Program was still within reach…_ _ _ _

____"We'll spend the first semester on combat, and after the Christmas break we'll learn all about Dark Creatures – what they are, how to identify them, and how to interact with them. It's a lot to throw at you in just one year, but that's all the time I have with you guys, so we're going to make it count. Sound good?"_ _ _ _

____He got a more enthusiastic response this time, the teenagers actually looking excited at the prospect of learning such practical skills from someone who seemed to know what he was doing. Professor Lupin clapped his hands together in excitement._ _ _ _

____"Great! Let's get started!" He stood, but paused when he saw that Terry Nott had raised his hand tentatively._ _ _ _

____"Yes, Mr. Nott?"_ _ _ _

____"Please, sir, I was just wondering – is it true that you knocked out Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov on the Hogwarts Express? And are you really from Bulgaria? You don't sound like it…"_ _ _ _

____Professor Lupin smiled slightly. "I haven't really told you anything about myself, have I? Sorry about that, I got carried away." He settled back down on the edge of the desk, hands clasped in front of him._ _ _ _

____"Yes, I knocked out the two Death Eaters on the Hogwarts Express. I used techniques of physical combat that you will all learn in the coming months. And yes, I am from Bulgaria. I was raised by a British family near the Greek border, which is why my accent is a little… strange. But Bulgaria has been my home for as long as I can remember. For the past five years I have worked with Aurors from Britain and from other parts of Europe to track down Death Eaters and other criminals, and bring them to justice. I have also been widely involved with efforts to liase with various communities of Dark Creatures throughout Eastern Europe. Albus Dumbledore asked me to teach here because he knows the importance of teaching young people how – and when – to use defensive magic. If there is one thing I want you to take away from this class, it is this: _not everything you have been taught to be afraid of deserves that fear_. The world is so much more than black and white, good and evil. I will teach you how to use your wand to defend yourself and others, but I'll also teach you how to use your wand to heal, and I will teach you when to put it down and offer a hand in friendship. That is how the world will become a better place. Not through force, but through understanding. And all of you have the power to make it so."___ _

______He paused, and smiled at the stunned expressions on their faces. Tonks felt her heart swelling at his impassioned words. This shabbily dressed young man had, in five minutes, inspired her more than any of her previous teachers put together._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I'll get off my soapbox, now," he said, chuckling. "Leave everything here, even your wands, and let's go outside. Time for your first combat class."_ _ _ _ _ _


	5. Chapter 4

Hogwarts was obsessed with Remus Lupin. He was a whirlwind of energy, and was sweeping everyone up into his orbit. His classes were strenuous, both physically and mentally demanding. For the first few weeks of the term, almost every DADA class was outside, taking advantage of the fleeting good weather to learn as much about physical combat and defense as they could. On the rare occasion that it was raining, the students learned the basics of magical defense and dueling inside.

Most of the students were loving every second of it. Finally, a DADA professor was teaching them something useful! For Ron, Harry, and Hermione, the only cloud on the horizon was the fact that they had Defense classes with the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy had been unpleasant enough in first year, but since his Death Eater father had been captured and sent to Azkaban the year before, he had been nearly insufferable.

It was the third week of classes, and the third years were paired off on the lawn, practicing a simple method of subduing a physical attack. Professor Lupin had paired Harry up with Draco, showing what Harry thought was a distinct lack of judgment, seeing as how the two boys openly antagonized each other on a daily basis. An hour had already passed, and Harry's patience with Draco's snide remarks was growing quite thin.

"Come on, Potter," the blond-haired boy sneered as Harry tried yet again to tackle him. Malfoy was proving to be quite adept at this whole physical defense thing. "You're not even trying. This is like fighting a dumb chimpanzee."

Harry's patience finally snapped. This time, he managed to get a good hold on Malfoy's torso and tried to bring him to the ground. The two boys struggled, equal height and weight offering no advantage to either of them. Then Draco's foot slipped, and Harry grabbed the back of his shirt, nearly pulling it clean off as he forced the thrashing blond boy face down into the grass. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he could vaguely hear shouts from his classmates and Professor Lupin.

Any rush of victory he might have felt vanished in an instant as he set eyes on Malfoy's exposed back. Raised white lines ran across the skin in close formation, criss-crossing in some places. His heart leapt to his throat as an image of the nasty scar that crossed his father's chest flashed into his mind. James Potter had received that scar in the war. Why did Draco Malfoy have so many more?

He had no time to contemplate it further. Professor Lupin heaved him roughly off of Draco, who scrambled to his feet and yanked his shirt down, face beet red and furious. Harry looked up at Lupin, expecting to see a similar fury, but was surprised to see the man looking at Malfoy in resigned understanding. The blond boy avoided eye contact, and Harry knew that Lupin had seen the scars too. A long, tense moment passed, and Harry could see his classmates watching them from a distance.

When Professor Lupin finally spoke, his voice was calm, but deadly serious. "I know you two think that you're enemies, but you are going to find that there are much more important things to care about – and much more important battles to fight – than whatever is going on here." He gestured between Harry and Draco, his hazel eyes boring into them in turn. "The world is already messed up enough, without you two bringing more hatred into it. Get it together, boys. Detention, both of you. Come to my office tomorrow night after dinner."

He turned away, leaving behind a mortified Harry and a still furious Draco. The bell rang to end class, and Harry trudged, shame-faced, to meet Ron and Hermione. Ron clearly wanted to congratulate Harry on shoving Malfoy's face into the ground, but managed to restrain himself until they were out of Lupin's earshot. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed to be of a similar mind to their professor.

"He's right, you know," she said, bushy hair swinging as they walked. "You two are being ridiculous. The war's over, we should be working to improve relations with people like Draco."

"Yeah, well, tell him to stop calling me a dumb chimpanzee then," Harry muttered, but his words lacked real anger. Ron and Hermione hadn't seen the marks on Malfoy's back, and part of him really wanted to tell them, to get their opinions on what it might mean. But then he remembered the look on Malfoy's face after Harry had seen them – angry, defensive… and scared.

"You alright, mate?"

Ron's voice broke Harry from his thoughts. He looked over at his red-haired friend. "Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Detention tomorrow, that's all."

They didn't need to know about the scars. He may not like Malfoy very much, but he never wanted to see that look on the boy's face ever again.

 

Tonks, Clarence Clearwater, and Terry Nott crept down the dark hallway toward the Room of Requirement. It was well after curfew, and they barely dared to breath as they kept their eyes and ears peeled for any sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris.

The three seventh years were quite serious about getting into the Auror Training Program, and they had decided to use the Room of Requirement to get some more practice with the physical and magical combat skills they were learning from Professor Lupin. Finally they reached the room, and Tonks walked three times along the wall. _We need a place to practice Defense. ___

As expected, a door appeared and the three teenagers entered what appeared to be a gymnasium with padded floors and walls, various punching bags hanging from the ceiling. But they were not, to their great surprise, alone.

Remus Lupin was at one of the punching bags, hands wrapped in white tape, giving the poor bag a beating it would never forget. He was wearing loose-fitting black pants and a white undershirt that now clung to his sweaty skin. Tonks's mouth went slightly dry as she saw well-defined muscles shifting under the thin fabric.

They hadn't made a sound, but something must have alerted Lupin to their presence, for he swung around, lithe body lowering into an instinctively defensive pose. When he saw the three teenagers he straightened up, looking taken aback.

"I'm sorry, Professor Lupin," Tonks began, no idea what she was planning to say to this distractingly attractive man standing in front of her, sweat dripping from his brow and down his tanned throat. She opened her mouth again, but no words came out.

"What are you three doing here?" he asked, saving her from an awkward silence.

Terry (who had known he was gay since he was four) and Clarence (who was also quite decidedly attracted to men) were still unable to form words in the face of such a specimen, so it fell to Tonks to respond.

"We… we were looking for a place to practice the things you've been showing us," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I know it's after curfew, but we all want to get into the Auror Training Program, and they only take the best."

She raised her chin defiantly, as though daring him to order them back to their dormitories. Ever since she had fallen through the doorway into his arms in the first class, the two of them had had a rather confusing chemistry. His hazel eyes twinkled teasingly at her whenever she tripped over her own feet in class, and she glared back in equal parts anger and amusement. Now he raised an eyebrow at her, and a slow smile spread across his face, replacing the slight confusion that had been there before.

"Is that so?" he asked, and she nodded. He looked to Terry and Clarence, who had recovered slightly, and they nodded as well. His smile broadened into a grin.

"Okay then," he said. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

The three teenagers let out sighs of relief, smiling broadly at their teacher.

"Thank you, Professor Lupin," Tonks said, echoed by her friends. He continued to smile, putting his hands in his pockets as he surveyed them.

"No worries. Do you want any help? Maybe we can make this an official thing, so you don't have to sneak around all the time. I'm here most nights anyway."

Tonks's eyes widened at the generous offer. Extra time with Professor Lupin? It was too good to be true.

"Seriously?" she asked, and he chuckled. "Yeah, seriously. I'll talk to Dumbledore about it, I'm sure he'll approve. Are there other seventh years looking to become Aurors? We could open it up to anyone who's interested."

"That sounds incredible, sir," Clarence said, finding her voice at last.

"Great," he said, eyes twinkling. "I'm happy to see you guys so excited to learn this stuff."

His gaze met Tonks's for a moment, and her stomach gave a lurch. This was not the normal, teasing look he usually gave her. His eyes seemed to stare directly into her soul for a split second, before tearing themselves free. She was left feeling slightly unbalanced. But there was no time to reflect on it, for Professor Lupin was already rubbing his hands together, looking boyishly excited.

"So, where do you guys want to start?"

 

Harry knocked on the door to Lupin's office the next night, feeling distinctly nervous. He respected Professor Lupin quite a lot, and was eager to get back into the man's good graces. Lupin's slightly hoarse voice called him to come in, and he entered the office.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts office was different every year, reflecting the personalities of the constantly changing professors. Last year, Lockhart had had pictures of himself on every surface. Lupin's decorating job could not have been more different. The room was painted in shades of brown and green, and tanks lined every wall, containing creatures of all shapes and sizes. Some of the creatures Harry recognized from Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which his mother had made him read, but some of the creatures were completely foreign to him. After gaping around the room for several seconds, he finally noticed that Malfoy was already there, standing in front of Professor Lupin's desk looking mutinous.

"This has got to be illegal, you can't make us do this," he sneered at Lupin, who only smiled.

"I have the full support of Professor Dumbledore, so yes, I can make you do this."

"Make us do what?" Harry asked, confused. Malfoy shifted on his feet angrily.

"He wants us to go into the Forbidden Forest to find Hagrid's damn dog!" he spat out. "I'm not risking my life for that overgrown mutt, can't the half-breed go get it himself?"

Something in Professor Lupin's eyes sparked at the word half-breed, but his calm smile remained.

"Hagrid is currently engaged in a mission for the Auror department, and asked me to find Fang for him in the meantime. He got lost while Hagrid was hunting," Lupin explained to Harry, who was still looking vaguely confused. "Finding him will be much easier with three people, instead of just one. I'll be with you the whole time, you'll be perfectly safe."

Malfoy was looking supremely unconvinced, and to be honest, Harry wasn't feeling too sure about the idea either. The last time he'd been in the Forbidden Forest, a giant spider had almost eaten him. It was not a memory he relished. But Professor Lupin was already putting on a jacket, and tucking his rarely-used wand into his back pocket. He was looking tired and worn that evening, Harry noticed, and his clothes hung off his frame as though he had rapidly lost weight. Frankly, he didn't look up to a night of tramping around a dark forest full of Dark Creatures. But he turned to the boys, smiled, and gestured to the door.

"Shall we?"


	6. Chapter 5

_I can't believe I'm doing this. This is stupid. And cold. And wet. I'm gonna fucking end Potter for getting me into this…_

Draco ducked to avoid yet another wet branch snapping back towards his face, and gasped as his foot landed right in a large, wet puddle. Lupin apparently did not believe in sticking to the trail, and Potter seemed to be trying his hardest to hit Draco with the backlash of every branch he walked by.

"Oy! Quit it, Potter!" he snarled, ignoring Lupin as the insufferable man looked back and held his finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. Harry looked over his shoulder and smirked slightly at Draco's sodden, muddy state. But when he turned back to continue on, he began making a concerted effort not to send any shrubbery whipping back towards his blond archenemy.

Potter had been acting strangely towards him the entire night. He had barely responded to Draco's usual snide remarks and insults, and had taken to staring at him when he thought the blond boy wasn't looking. Draco shoved a fern out of his way with more force than was necessary, anger burning in his blood as he realized what must have triggered the change. Potter had seen his back. So had Lupin. He had seen it in both of their faces the previous afternoon. Potter had been confused and concerned which was bad enough, but Lupin's eyes had held a sad kind of understanding that made Draco want to punch something.

How could he possibly understand? He had no idea what it was like, to have a father who hated everything in the world, including you. He had no idea what it was like to love that father, to try and please him, and receive nothing but pain and abuse in return. He had no idea what it was like to have that father taken away, sent to Azkaban, and be left with only his awful reputation to wear like a shield against the harsh world.

Draco cursed loudly as a large drop of water fell down the back of his neck from the trees above.

" _Goddammit!_ This is _ridiculous_ –"

He was abruptly silenced by Potter's hand over his mouth. The black-haired boy's eyes were wide and frightened as he pulled Draco down to hide behind a tree. Draco struggled, confused, but Harry's grip was relentless.

" _Quiet!_ " Potter hissed, hand still firmly over his classmate's mouth. " _We're not alone._ "

Voices drifted through the trees to Draco's ears. Freeing himself from Harry's hands, Draco looked around and saw that Lupin was nowhere to found.

_He left us. He fucking LEFT us!_

But there was no time to dwell on this betrayal. The speakers were getting nearer, and they didn't sound friendly.

"I'm telling you, Bane, I smell something."

The voice was deep, rough, wild and cruel. A shiver ran down Draco's spine, and he pressed his back to the tree alongside Harry.

"You're imagining things, Ronan. The humans aren't stupid enough to come here at night. They know what we would do to them if they did."

The second voice was, if possible, even crueler than the first, which now chuckled with a malice that made Harry grab Draco's forearm in fear. It was a mark of how frightened Draco was as well that he didn't shake the other boy off. They barely dared to breath as they heard strangely heavy footsteps slowly approaching their hiding place.

"It's coming from over here…" the first voice growled, sending Draco's pulse skyrocketing. "Can't you smell it?"

Ronan and Bane couldn't have been more than five feet away from where Harry and Draco sat, paralyzed, when suddenly a loud cry rang out through the trees.

"Fang! Oy, Fang!"

It was Lupin. Loud curses and the sound of heavy footfalls thundering through the undergrowth away from them signaled the abrupt departure of Ronan and Bane. The two boys peered around the tree, catching a glimpse of what appeared to be two horses galloping away from them. The men riding them seemed very odd, however, and upon closer inspection Harry discovered why.

"Centaurs!" he exclaimed, awe momentarily outweighing his lingering fear. He looked around to Draco but found that the blond boy was already on his feet, striding quickly back in the direction of the castle. Harry scrambled to his feet and took off after him.

"Hey! Malfoy! Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going, Potter?" he snapped, not even looking round at the boy at his heels. "Back to the castle! I've had enough of this stumbling around in the dark, waiting for centaurs and vampires and who knows what else to come find us!"

Harry grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back. "What about Professor Lupin?"

Draco shook him off. "What about him?"

"He just saved our skins, and you're just gonna leave him to deal with those centaurs _alone_?"

"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself," Draco spat, continuing to crash through the undergrowth. "He got us into this mess in the first place. Besides, what help would _we_ be?"

"You're a coward!" Harry shouted angrily. Draco stopped abruptly, his shoulders painfully tense. He turned around and stalked back to Harry, staring at him with cold, furious eyes.

"Say that again," he hissed. Harry didn't even hesitate, his voice clear and accusing.

"You're a coward."

Malfoy's hands flashed out, grabbing the collar of Harry's shirt in a surprisingly strong grip. He pulled the other boy forward until their noses were practically touching. Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden proximity.

"Listen to me, you spoiled little mama's boy," Draco hissed. "You think you know what courage is? You think courage is going off and doing something stupid just because you couldn't live with yourself if you didn't? If that's what you think, then be my guest: go and get yourself killed, but don't expect me to join you."

He shoved Harry away from him and turned around, striding towards the castle. But Potter's voice called out again.

"Well then, help me."

Draco stopped, turning slightly back to look at the boy he really wanted to punch in the nose right now. Harry was looking at him defiantly, challenging him.

"If you know so much about courage, then get your head out of your ass and help me to help Professor Lupin."

He grinned ruefully. "I wasn't planning on doing anything stupid, but maybe if you come along you can make sure of that."

Draco stared at the black-haired boy, realizing that this was the first time anyone had ever asked him for help. It made him feel… good, somehow. Wanted.

Several seconds passed before he cleared his throat, shifting to face Harry fully.

"I guess I can help you look for the bloody idiot," he said cautiously, gauging Harry's reaction as the other boy began to smile sincerely. "But don't expect any self-sacrificing heroics from me – _I'm_ way more important to me than Lupin is."

Harry shrugged. "Fair enough. Let's go."

 

It had been almost two hours since they had gotten separated from Professor Lupin, and both boys were nearing the end of their tether. Using a clever compass spell that Draco knew, they had managed to keep from getting hopelessly lost, but they were no closer to finding any sign of Lupin, Fang, or even the centaurs. It was now the darkest part of the night, and they were having difficulty taking even a few steps without tripping over some tree root or other.

In the darkness, the two boys began to huddle closer together, the strange sounds of the forest making them uneasy. Suddenly Draco, who was walking slightly behind Harry, tripped and flew forward, knocking Harry to the ground with him. They landed with a thump in a pile of leaves, wounding nothing but their pride. Harry lay facedown in the surprisingly comfortable pile, contemplating the utterly ridiculous situation they were in, and suddenly found himself laughing uncontrollably. He rolled over to find Draco – lying on his back in exhaustion – looking at him like he was insane.

"I – I just…" he attempted to explain through his slightly hysterical laughter, tears leaking from his eyes. "What – what are we doing right now?"

He continued to laugh, and looked over to find that in spite of himself, Draco was slowly beginning to smile as well. Several seconds later, his soft chuckles joined Harry's, and the two boys simply lay in the leaves for a moment, laughing.

Eventually, Harry stood and brushed leaves out of his hair. He reached down, holding a hand out to Draco. The blond boy – after a moment of hesitation – took it, and allowed Harry to pull him to his feet. Harry looked at him for a long moment, and then the question that had been burning in the back of his mind all night long suddenly burst from his mouth.

"What happened to your back?"

Draco's face closed off in an instant, his eyes suddenly guarded and angry. He turned away.

"None of your business, Potter."

Cursing under his breath, Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Did someone hurt you? You can talk to my dad, he'll make sure whoever did it gets what's coming to them."

"Your dad can stuff it," Draco snapped, starting to stride away angrily. Harry felt a flare of anger at the insult, but squashed it. The look of shame and fear on Draco's face when the scars were exposed flashed across his mind's eye, and he willed himself to be patient.

"Draco!" he called, only realizing after the word had left his mouth that it was the first time he had called the boy by his given name. "Draco, wait!"

The blond boy stopped, probably also realizing that some sort of line had just been crossed. He turned back to Harry, his eyes still angry.

"Draco," Harry stammered, not sure what he wanted to say, not sure what he _should_ say. "I – I just want to help. I know we don't always get along – well okay, we never get along, but… but that doesn't mean I want to see you get hurt."

Draco stared at him for a long, tense moment, as though assessing whether or not Harry was serious. Finally he spoke, his voice brittle, as though he was trying to sound angry but was truly fighting back tears.

"The person who hurt me is in Azkaban now. Your father helped to put him there."

Harry's eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly in horror. Draco's gaze dropped, and the two boys stood in stunned silence. Finally, Harry spoke, his voice rough and emotional.

"Draco… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, mate." The words fell out of his mouth, and Draco looked up, a spark of anger in his eyes.

"Don't pity me," he snarled, and Harry shook his head vehemently. "That's… that's not what I meant. I just… I'm sorry that I've been such a dick to you. I can't even imagine how hard this all must be."

Draco dropped his gaze again, shoulders hunched. "Yeah well, life isn't fair. You take what you get." His mouth quirked up slightly. "Besides… I've been kind of a dick to you too."

A long, mournful howl split the air, interrupting the boys and sending them diving for the cover of a nearby bush. They hunched behind it, looking around with wide eyes.

"Is it a werewolf?" Harry whispered to Draco, who shook his head.

"It's not full moon. It sounded like one though."

A large animal was crashing through the undergrowth not far from them. Harry turned to Draco.

"If we stay here, it's gonna find us eventually. I say we jump out and stun it."

Draco nodded. "Good idea. But let's go from different angles – that way there's no way it can get both of us."

"Brilliant. I'll go around in front, you follow it. When I hoot like an owl, it's go time."

Draco nodded, and crept away into the undergrowth. Harry positioned himself in the animal's path, waiting until it was almost upon him before hooting.

The two boys leapt out of the bushes, brandishing their wands bravely at… a very frightened looking wolfhound named Fang. Draco and Harry recognized the dog instantly, and dropped their wand hands, relieved. Fang was quite possibly even more relieved. Whimpering excitedly, he ran to Harry's side and began licking his hand, looking for food. Chuckling, Harry reached up to scratch the huge, cowardly dog's ears.

"Hullo, Fang."

Draco walked over and also patted the wolfhound, saying grudgingly, "Never thought I'd be happy to see this old mutt."

Suddenly, the sound of shouting and a galloping horse broke the peace. A wild-looking centaur broke through the trees not a hundred yards away, charging straight at them. Fang howled in fear and cowered behind the two boys, who raised their wands as one.

" _Stupefy!_ " they both cried. One stunning spell was not enough to fell an enraged centaur, but two well-cast stunners did the job quite nicely. Harry and Draco watched in shock as the centaur collapsed into the undergrowth.

The two boys slowly turned to look at each other, both grinning widely. They started to laugh, and were surprised by the sound of a deeper chuckle joining theirs. Spinning around, they found Professor Lupin leaning casually against a tree not too far away. Fang had already found him and was nuzzling at his hand, looking in vain for food. The boys stared at him in shock.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked accusingly. "Why did you leave us to deal with a centaur and a useless dog all by ourselves?"

Lupin smiled, his eyes twinkling at them. "You two had it under control," he said, gesturing towards the unconscious centaur. "Why would you need me?"

 

Albus Dumbledore waited at the east door of Hogwarts, watching the bedraggled trio approach the castle in the faded light of very early morning. Even from a distance, he could tell that all three of them were utterly exhausted, though Remus bore it better than the two boys, who were practically propping each other up. As they neared him, he asked mildly, "Successful night, boys?"

They looked up, and Remus smiled tiredly. Draco and Harry shared the sort of glance reserved for people who had been through battle together – pride, exhaustion, and a newfound understanding shining through in that simple gesture. Though Albus retained his mild expression as he looked at them, he could feel his heart soaring. Perhaps there was hope after all, and not just for these two.

Draco answered Dumbledore's question, adolescent voice strained with fatigue. "Yes, sir. Fang is back, safe and sound."

"Wonderful," Albus replied, smiling kindly down at the exhausted but triumphant boys. "Well, you two must be tired. I'm sure your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will understand if you miss class this morning."

He winked at Remus, who grinned. "Go sleep it off, boys," he said. "You've earned it. Good work tonight."

They smiled gratefully at him, and turned to traipse inside, not seeming to notice that their shoulders were still touching. Remus and Albus watched as they disappeared into the castle.

When they were gone, Albus turned back to the tired young man before him.

"I must say, Remus, that I am impressed. Those two have been at each other's throats since day one, and now look at them."

The young man chuckled. "Well, let's not get excited too soon. Who knows if it'll stick."

"How on earth did you do it?"

Remus grinned. "A little help from our friends Ronan and Bane. They were quite tickled by the whole thing, really. I think they were both actors in another life. Though I'm going to have to get Bane a very large bottle of Ogden's to make up for the rather nasty _stupefy_ he got at the end there…"

For the first time in a long while, Albus Dumbledore laughed outright.

"Brilliant," he chuckled, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Though you may have to work a little harder to convince Harry and Draco that most centaurs aren't actually bloodthirsty savages."

"Yes, I'm sure the truth will come out eventually," Remus said, smiling ruefully. "But by that time, I hope Harry and Draco will have truly gotten over their differences."

"It appears as though they're already well on their way," Albus said, placing a wrinkled hand on the young man's shoulder. Remus looked up at him, his rueful smile turning shy as Dumbledore looked at him proudly.

"Speaking of sleep, you look like you could use some yourself Remus," the old man said. Remus nodded, stifling a yawn.

"Think I'll mosey on up to bed for a few hours," he said, nodding to Albus and turning to slowly climb the stairs into the castle. Dumbledore watched him go, brow creased slightly in worry as he saw how much weight the young man had lost. The full moon was the day after tomorrow, and though Severus was brewing Wolfsbane for him, lycanthropy still took quite a toll on Remus's body.

Albus spared a moment to remember just how he had met Remus Lupin, and gave a sad sigh. He felt quite responsible for the young man, but quite often Remus was at the mercy of things Albus could not control – the physical ailments of his condition being only one of them.

Albus turned his face back to the first lines of daylight on the horizon, still contemplating Remus. The wizarding world had been stuck in a rut for so long. But this vibrant young man, this werewolf professor… he might be the one to pull them all out of it.


	7. Chapter 6

The term was passing swiftly, and the number of seventh years taking Professor Lupin's nighttime DADA supplement course had grown to over a dozen. Most were looking to apply to the Auror Department, but some of the seventh years were angling for the other more dangerous career paths – curse breaking for Gringotts, the Department of Mysteries, the Department of Magical Creatures…

Professor Lupin taught a class every Monday night, usually going into more detail on the skills they had learned during regular DADA classes. Most other nights of the week, he was there to help students on a more informal basis. Rarely did a night pass without at least a couple of teenagers coming to the Room of Requirement with questions about dueling techniques or physical defense tactics.

It was Halloween, and Tonks was alone in the padded gymnasium, enjoying the rare moment of solitude. Over the past few months she had felt herself growing stronger and faster – both physically and mentally – under Professor Lupin's tutelage. The Auror training program was on the horizon, and she was pushing herself to the limit to get there successfully. Hence the workout session at eleven on a Friday night, when all of her friends were busy getting drunk in Hogsmeade.

She was not expecting anyone to join her this late at night, and so she danced around one of the punching bags in shorts and a sports bra, sweat dripping down her face as she pummeled the hard leather. She had never been especially sporty – two left feet and the coordination of a baby giraffe didn't help much in that regard – but she was hoping that magical prowess and sheer physical stamina would make up for her supreme clumsiness.

Tonks jumped in surprise and whipped around when the door banged open and bounced back against the wall. Professor Lupin wasn't in a very good mood, by the sound of things. He was obviously as surprised to see her there as she was to see him. They gawked at each other for several seconds as the Weird Sisters wailed in the background. His hair was mussed and sticking up haphazardly, his face lined with exhaustion, and Tonks could still see the remnants of a frighteningly haunted look in his eyes before he schooled his features back to his normal friendly neutrality. He had the look of someone who had just woken from a very bad dream.

His eyes flickered down and he went slightly red, quickly turning to fix his gaze on the noisy radio. Realizing what had flustered him, Tonks cursed under her breath and summoned her shirt from the other side of the room, quickly pulling it over her head.

"Sorry, Professor," she said awkwardly, turning the radio down with a flick of her wand. "I didn't think anybody else would be here."

He looked back up at her, a slightly sheepish smile on his lips as he ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"Yeah, neither did I. Aren't all the seventh years in Hogsmeade tonight?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

He gave her a questioning look. "Then why are you here? I mean, your work ethic is admirable, but everyone needs a break now and then. Why don't you go join your friends?"

She turned back to the punching bag, tapping it half-heartedly with her fists. "I can go out with my friends after I've applied to the Auror program. Till then, I have to focus on getting in."

She heard his footsteps approach, and turned to see him standing right next to her, hands in his pockets and concern in his eyes.

"Miss Tonks, why are you so stressed about this? The Auror training program is exactly that – a _training_ program. They don't expect you to be perfect coming in, that's why you have three more years of classes before you're fully qualified. I don't think getting in is going to be a problem for you."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically at him.

"I'm serious," he continued, sensing that she was not convinced. "You're obviously very talented, you're a hard worker, and you're passionate about the job. Throw being a Metamorphmagus on top of all that, and they'd be fools not to take you."

She flinched almost imperceptibly, and turned away from him, focusing her attention once again on the punching bag.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and for the first time since she had met him, she kind of wished he would just go away.

"Nothing," she muttered, throwing a poorly executed right hook at the bag and cursing when her wrist bent painfully.

Professor Lupin pulled her gently away from the punching bag and, despite her protests, took her wrist in his large hands. Her mouth opened slightly in surprise when the pain immediately subsided. He smiled at her, ignoring her shocked expression.

"I think you'll live," he said, still holding her wrist lightly between his hands. It was impossible to stay annoyed with him when his warm, calloused palms were touching her skin and unleashing butterflies in her stomach. She smiled back at him.

"You don't like it when people say you're a Metamorphmagus," he said. It was not a question. She reluctantly pulled away from him, and started to take the white tape off her hands.

"No," she said, opting for honesty. "I don't. I don't like feeling as though I'm defined by something I have no control over."

She looked up from her hands to see him staring intently at her. Her stomach lurched again. _Why does it always do that when I'm around him?_ she wondered as she continued.

"I want to be valued for _who_ I am, not _what_ I am. I know that being a Metamorphmagus is a huge advantage when you're an Auror, but I'm going to earn my place just like everyone else."

She raised her chin defiantly, and he smiled at her. "I have no doubt that you will. I didn't mean to imply otherwise, forgive me."

She smiled back at him, and he took a breath, as though he wanted to say more. After a moment of hesitation, he continued.

"As for what you said – about how you don't like being defined by something you can't control… I think you'll find that many people share that sentiment. You're not alone in that."

Before she had a chance to ask him what he meant, he turned away, grabbing a roll of tape to put on his hands. She continued to remove the tape from hers, contemplating what he had just said. She thought of Terry and her other gay friends, and Lee Jordan and the other minority students at Hogwarts. Professor Lupin was right: they would know just as well as she did how it felt to be defined by – and often mocked for – the one thing that made you different.

Professor Lupin was almost done wrapping his hands. Tonks examined him for a while, taking in the lines of fatigue on his face, and the way his clothes seemed to hang off his suddenly thin frame. The man was a mystery. Over the past few months, he had gone from lithe but muscular to almost painfully skinny, then back again. Now, he seemed to be returning to a skeletal state. His face was pale and drawn, and though he often seemed vaguely tired, tonight he looked almost dead on his feet.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out before her brain could stop her. He looked up at her questioningly.

"Same thing you are. Working out."

"Yeah but – no offense Professor… but you look like you could use a good night's sleep, not a workout."

His eyes darkened momentarily – a flash of the hollow look on his face when he first entered. But he covered it so quickly with a genial grin that Tonks wondered if she had imagined it.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, the lightness in his voice almost imperceptibly strained. "Chronic insomnia. Hence why I'm always here, goofing off with you guys."

He turned to one of the punching bags, then seemed to think better of it. Looking back at her, he said, "Tonks… this room is gonna be here all weekend. But your friends are having fun in Hogsmeade now. Even Aurors have social lives."

Slowly, a grin spread across her face. Admitting defeat, she nodded and grabbed her stuff.

"Have a good night, Professor," she said, heading for the door.

"You too, Tonks."

As she opened the door, she heard him begin to hit the punching bag. Hesitating, she looked back. He was already lost in the motions, attacking the bag with a single-minded aggression that both frightened and excited her. But as he shifted to place a well-aimed kick on the hardened leather, she caught a glimpse of his eyes. Hollow… haunted.


	8. Chapter 7

Tonks kept a close eye on Professor Lupin over the next few weeks. Their encounter in the gym on Halloween night had confused her – and though she felt rather stupid admitting it to herself, it had also worried her. There was obviously much more to Remus Lupin than the calm, mostly cheerful façade he put on for his students, and as she spent more time with him in class and in the Room of Requirement, she became more adept at spotting the chinks in his armor.

The most obvious mystery of Professor Lupin was his constantly changing physical appearance. Some days he seemed barely older than the seventh years, face lit up with energy and his body muscular and youthful. But other days he looked almost as old as her cousin Sirius, his face lined with weariness and his frame thin and almost skeletal. The strangest thing was the way his eyes shifted in parallel, going from a sparkling hazel green to a dull gold in color and back again.

The first time she really noticed this inexplicable phenomenon, she had been so shocked that she accidentally jinxed Stanley Shunpike instead of her own practice partner, a tall Ravenclaw boy called Dennis Arthur. Swearing, she fumbled with her wand and finally managed to make Stan's legs stop doing the Highland Fling, only to turn back and find Professor Lupin looking at her in amusement, his eyes unarguably golden brown. He couldn't be a Metamorphmagus too, he would have said something. And if his constantly disheveled state was anything to go by, he was not the sort of bloke who went in for cosmetic spellwork. So how were his eyes a blatantly different color?

Then there were the less obvious mysteries of Professor Lupin. His almost preternatural ability to sense who was around him, even if they hadn't made a sound. The deliberate professionalism of his motions when he showed them how to fight and defend. His sometimes pale and sickly countenance, the occasional days when he was too ill to teach, and the almost imperceptible flinch when anyone reached to touch him.

Yes, Professor Remus Lupin definitely had secrets, and Tonks was definitely curious. And though she would never admit it, she was also just the tiniest bit concerned. Something told her that the pain she had glimpsed on Halloween was always there, hidden behind his changing eyes.

 

 

The Great Hall was always a lively place, but lunch on the last day of the term was especially boisterous. The last of the students had just completed Professor Lupin's end of term evaluation – an hour long obstacle course filled with physical and magical defense challenges that simulataneously exhausted and exhilarated the teenagers, many of whom had never even dreamed they would be able to do the things Professor Lupin had taught them to excel at in four short months. The kitchens had had to increase the output of food over the term, in order to compensate for the increased appetites of hundreds of children who spent hours each day running around outside learning practical DADA skills. Christmas break was only a day away, and the hall was practically buzzing with excitement.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry were doing something that, three months ago, would have seemed absolutely ludicrous. They were sitting at the Slytherin table, talking animatedly to Draco, Pansy Parkinson, and Blaise Zabini. Pansy was showing them all a miniature dragon that her older sister had sent from Romania, where she worked on the same team as Charlie. The tiny dragon tottered over to a plate of rolls and released an even tinier jet of flame, looking quite annoyed when only a small section of a roll turned brown under the heat.

The teenagers laughed, and the dragon let out a small squeak of indignation. A chuckle from above them brought their attention up to Professor Lupin, who was looking at the tiny dragon with wonder. He leaned down, bracing himself against the edge of the table between Blaise and Ginny.

"A tiny Hungarian Horntail!" he said, grinning. "That's fantastic. Did your sister send you that, Pansy?"

The black-haired girl nodded, blushing slightly under Professor Lupin's gaze. "This one's just a toy. She said that they managed to catch a real one the other day, before it could attack a village," she said, clearly proud of her older sister. "It all sounded pretty crazy, I don't think I could deal with a dragon bigger than this one," she gestured to the small creature, which was still trying and failing to burn things. Professor Lupin grinned at her.

"Oh, I think with enough training and practice, you'd do just fine," he said, his tone ringing with confidence. "Dragons aren't that bad, really. They only attack villages when they're really hungry, or when they feel threatened. If people just left 'em alone, and threw 'em a sheep every once in a while, they'd be perfectly happy. That's generally what dragon tamers try to do – keep the dragons happy so they don't _have_ to resort to burning down villages."

As he spoke, he slowly held his bare hand out to the tiny creature. The children had avoided touching it, preferring to move it around with their wands, though it was clearly not very dangerous. They watched as Professor Lupin lay his hand flat on the table near the small dragon, palm up to the ceiling. The creature eyed this strange new object, slowly approaching it and smelling it cautiously. Professor Lupin waited patiently for the dragon to make up its mind, and finally the tiny dragon stepped awkwardly up onto his calloused palm. Slowly – clearly trying not to alarm it – Professor Lupin raised it up, cupping his hand slightly so it wouldn't fall off. The Hungarian Horntail looked around, obviously enjoying this new vantage point. Professor Lupin brought it close to him, examining it with curious golden brown eyes.

"This is a brilliant replica," he said enthusiastically. "It's exactly like the real thing. Did she make this?"

Pansy nodded, and he slowly returned it to the table.

"Well, the Parkinson family is clearly very talented," he said, and she blushed again, smiling at him. He straightened, sticking his hands in his pockets, and smiled as he looked at the four Gryffindors and three Slytherins sitting at the table.

"You'll be happy to know that you all got full marks on your end of term evaluations."

His smile broadened as their eyes lit up and they grinned at each other. Hermione was almost bouncing out of her seat in excitement as he continued.

"I'm very proud of you all. And I'm looking forward to next term. Have a very happy Christmas!"

His words suddenly reminded Harry of something his father had been bugging him about for weeks.

"Oh, Professor Lupin!"

The young man turned back at Harry's words, brow raised slightly.

"Do you want to come to my Uncle Sirius's house in London for Christmas and Boxing Day? My dad wanted me to ask you."

Professor Lupin now raised both eyebrows, clearly quite surprised. Harry continued rather nervously.

"The Weasleys are gonna be there, and Hermione and her parents, and the Longbottoms and the Tonkses. It's a big house," he said, feeling the need to explain why it seemed like half the Wizarding World went to Grimmauld Place every Christmas break. "Draco and his mum are coming next year, right?" he said, turning to the blond boy across the table. Draco gave him a small, cautious smile, and nodded. Harry grinned and turned back to Professor Lupin.

"You want to come? There's lots of food, and sometimes Fred and George don't spike the punch, but most of the time they do, so it's a lot of fun."

Professor Lupin's look of surprise was fading into a shy, happy smile as he realized that Harry was actually serious. He seemed genuinely touched.

"That's wonderful of you to ask me Harry, thank you," he said. "And thank your father for me too. I wish I could come, but I have to go back to Bulgaria to deal with a few things. I'll be thinking of you all, though. Give my best to everyone!"

He bowed his head slightly in farewell, and turned to walk towards the staff table, his lips still curled up in a faint, happy smile. They watched him as he slowly climbed to the raised dais, as though his joints ached. His clothes were hanging off him again.

"Why does he look so ill so much of the time?" Hermione asked to nobody in particular. She was met with a chorus of shrugs, though she could tell that she was not the only one who wondered.

 

 

The children left for Grimmauld Place the next day, invigorated by the most exciting and productive term they had ever had at Hogwarts. When they arrived in London, the Weasley and Potter siblings, along with Hermione, Neville, and Tonks, seized the opportunity to grill their Auror relations for every scrap of information they could get about Professor Lupin. How old was he? Had he really ridden a dragon? How many Death Eaters had he caught? Did he have a girlfriend? (This last question was Ginny's, and earned her quite a bit of ribbing from her older brothers.)

As it turned out, the teenagers had quite a few Aurors around to question. Fabian and Gideon and their gaggle of red-haired Prewetts had decided to join in the fun at Grimmauld Place this year, bringing the number of Aurors and former members of the Order of the Phoenix to six, including James, Sirius, Frank and Alice. They were all quite amused by the endless barrage of questions about Remus, and answered them as best they could. They weren't sure how old he was, but probably around 24 or 25. He had not – to their knowledge – ridden a dragon, but Sirius told them quite an impressive story about how he had ridden a hippogriff right in front of a Hungarian Horntail, using himself as bait to draw the dragon away from a village and towards the tamers who waited with tranquilizer guns (Ron gave Charlie a dirty look, but the young man looked utterly unrepentant for embellishing the story). He had caught 9 Death Eaters, including the ones on the train, and he did not – again, to their knowledge – have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, for that matter.

"To tell you the truth, we don't really know that much about him either," Sirius said, sipping on a tumbler of Firewhiskey as they all sat on various armchairs and couches in the large Grimmauld library. Faint sounds of loud children echoed from downstairs, where Sirius's wife Marlene was trying to wrangle their three rambunctious children, Regulus, Rosa, and Peter. "He likes to keep to himself. Helps out when we need him, does a damn good job, makes a few jokes, then sorta melts back into the trees where he came from. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Maybe he has a whole brood of little Lupins that we don't know about!"

Sirius shrugged, grinning over at his fellow Aurors. Tonks felt an alarming stab of jealousy at his words.

"Why are you asking _us_ all these questions?" James said. "Why didn't you ask _him?_ "

Ron gave a short bark of laughter. "I don't know if you've noticed, but he's a little intimidating."

"He's not that intimidating!" Tonks interjected, feeling defensive of him in the wake of her strange bout of jealousy. "He's very nice, actually. He just really knows what he's doing, which I guess makes him seem a little scary."

Sirius raised his glass to that. "He most definitely knows what he's doing. Dumbledore did well to bring him to Hogwarts, I feel a lot better knowing that you all are learning from him."

He was met with a chorus of nods from his fellow Aurors. Fabian leaned forward in his seat.

"I'm actually curious about what he's teaching you," he said, clear blue eyes looking mostly at his nieces and nephews. "What subjects is he covering?"

No one was surprised when Hermione jumped to answer his question.

"This past semester we learned the basics of physical defense – what Muggles would call karate or mixed martial arts – and we began to learn how to duel. Next semester we're going to learn about Dark Creatures, and Professor Lupin told me that he's also going to teach us some healing spells, and the basics of wandless magic."

Many adult eyebrows raised in impressed surprise.

"Wow," James exclaimed, running a hand through his hair with practiced ease. "That's an ambitious syllabus. He must have heard about the DADA professor one-year curse, that's why he's jamming it all in this year."

His lips curled up, mostly kidding. Alice spoke up, ignoring him.

"Finally, somebody is teaching these kids what they actually need to know! I've always liked Remus, but this makes me respect him even more. I'd like to talk to him, is he coming here for Christmas?"

James shook his head.

"We invited him, but he had to go back to Bulgaria. Probably putting out somebody else's fire again," he muttered darkly. He looked at Sirius, and they exchanged an exasperated look. "Can you even imagine what that place would be like if he just gave up and left them to it?"

His father's words fired a curiosity in Harry that had been growing since the first day of the term.

"Dad, what's happening over there?" he asked. "In Eastern Europe, I mean. I know you don't like to talk about work but…"

He faltered as the Aurors' faces darkened perceptibly, but glanced around at the other teenagers, who looked like they wanted information just as badly as he did. To his surprise, Tonks took up his crusade.

"A lot of us want to be Aurors, James. And that means we'll be there within a few years anyway. Wouldn't it be better if we went into it with all the facts?"

James Potter stood abruptly, pacing over to the fire and standing with his back to them. He was silent for a long moment. Finally, without turning around, he spoke.

"Eastern Europe is a clusterfuck. That's the only term for it. It's been a clusterfuck for ten years, and there doesn't seem to be a lot of hope for it getting better. If there was any mercy in the world, none of you would ever have to go there, but I'm starting to think that the idea of mercy was blown up along with Kamena."

"Kamena?" Harry asked, a shiver running up his spine at the dark tone in his father's voice.

"We might as well start at the beginning, James," Sirius said, standing up to pour more Firewhiskey into his tumbler, and five more glasses for his fellow Aurors, who were looking resigned. "I think a story like this calls for a drink in our hands," he said, levitating the glasses to his friends. As an afterthought, he poured two more drinks and offered them to Charlie and Tonks, the only other people in the room who were of age. Shocked, Tonks accepted without thinking and lifted the glass to her lips, grimacing as the harsh liquid burned her throat.

James and Sirius settled back into their seats, and James began.

"I suppose all of this started during the War," he said, staring moodily into his whiskey. "Voldemort was using Dark Creatures in his army – werewolves, vampires, veelas, centaurs… you name it. Some of them were there by choice, but most of them were either Imperiused, or were coerced in some awful way. The Death Eaters had huge camps full of prisoners who were related to Dark Creatures, family members. Voldemort used them as leverage, forcing good people to do horrible things."

Harry heard several gasps echo around him. They had never been taught this in History of Magic. None of their textbooks made any mention of it. Why had this aspect of the War been erased? James continued.

"At the time, we didn't know that was happening. The Ministry enacted a lot of very strict, very prejudiced laws against Dark Creatures, and enforced them to the letter, even after the War. Dark Creatures had to be registered and branded. Any children who were lucky enough not to inherit the conditions were taken from their families. Dark Creatures couldn't get jobs in the Wizarding World, couldn't vote, couldn't enter most establishments, couldn't even walk down the street without being identified and attacked by various anti-Dark Creature groups. Unsurprisingly, almost all of the Dark Creatures in Britain escaped and went elsewhere. Some went to the Americas, others to Africa. But the largest emigration was to Eastern Europe. Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, the Ukraine, some parts of Greece… those countries already had large communities of Dark Creatures and their families, so it was a logical place to go. A lot of people went there thinking that they could start over, finally live in peace…"

James took a large swig of his whiskey, grimacing. Sirius, taking that as a cue, took over the story.

"But they weren't the only people who went to Eastern Europe. Voldemort's supporters – the ones who managed to escape – all went there as well. It's an easy place to hide. Forests and mountain ranges that go on forever, full of all sorts of dangerous creatures and dangerous people, with a climate that dissuades most of us from even finding it on a map. And when Voldemort's supporters met up with the same people they had tormented and coerced… well, you can imagine what happened."

"Wasn't pretty," James muttered. "And the worst thing about it was that the Ministry wouldn't let us do _anything_. We heard whispers, rumors of fighting and atrocities, but racist bureaucrats tied our hands behind our backs and wouldn't let us help. They preferred to believe that it wasn't happening, that all the scary things and scary people in the world died along with Voldemort."

His voice was bitter, angry. He got up to refill his glass.

"And then Kamena happened," Frank said softly, tracing the rim of his tumbler and staring blankly at the floor, his eyes distant.

James downed the Firewhiskey in one go.

"Kamena," he said, putting his tumbler down on the table with a crack. "Kamena was a travesty, a _godawful_ … it's the sort of thing that happens in history books, not real life."

Harry glanced at Hermione, seeing her sad expression, and remembered her words at the opening feast four months ago.

"Is that… is that the town that was destroyed?"

Sirius nodded, swallowing thickly.

"Yes," he said. "978 people died, most of whom were entirely human. All of whom were entirely innocent of any crime – unless you think having a condition you didn't ask for and can't control is a crime."

"A lot people, even today, seem to think that's a crime punishable by death," Alice said, her voice wavering with a mixture of anger and immense sadness. She looked around at the teenagers, whose horrified eyes were fixed on her.

"Someone Portkeyed a huge bomb to the main street in Kamena," she said softly. "They didn't have any time to react, they didn't have any time to get out. The town was leveled. By the time we got there, there were only ashes left. Only ashes, where once there were 978 vibrant, living souls."

There was a very long, tense silence, as everyone tried to come to grips with that number, with that amount of senseless loss. Finally, Tonks asked quietly, "Did anyone survive? Did anyone make it out?"

Sirius nodded.

"We know at least one person survived. That's the only reason we found out about it. Whoever it was somehow managed to get to Dumbledore. Albus called in every member of the Order of the Phoenix, and we managed to stop H.A.W.E. before they could do the same thing to several other villages in Bulgaria."

"H.A.W.E.?" Fred asked.

"Humans Against Werewolf Equality," Alice explained. "It's a pretty terrible anagram, and they're a pretty terrible group of people. They claimed responsibility for the attack when it reached the news, they were _proud_ of it. There was a huge uproar in the Wizarding World, and for a while it really seemed as though things were going to get better. Some of the anti-Dark Creature laws were relaxed, making it easier for Dark Creatures to move back to Britain. The Aurors were allowed to go into Eastern Europe to start doing damage control. But, as with all atrocities, people began to forget. They forgot about all the lives lost, about all the lives that are _still_ being lost… and their underlying fears and prejudices came back with a vengeance."

"The whole of Eastern Europe became a war zone almost overnight," James said, finally reentering the conversation. "Nobody knew anything about H.A.W.E. – who they were, where they were based… so people began to point the finger at each other. There was so much confusion, so much built up distrust and fear in the Dark Creature community, that all it took was a little injection of chaos here and there from H.A.W.E. and from the Death Eaters who were still skulking about. A few brief moments of violence from them, and the entire region erupted into confused, brutal anarchy."

"Why did they stay?" Hermione asked, baffled. "Why didn't they just leave?"

"Some of them did," James said. "But most of them had nowhere else to go. Only a few countries in the world let registered Dark Creatures through their borders, and conditions for them there are barely better. That brand, that registration as a Dark Creature – it's almost a death sentence. It means that you can either choose a life of poverty and constant fear in Britain, or a life of violence and revenge in Eastern Europe. And the Ministry still puts those brands on people, still forces them to make that choice. Nobody's blameless in this giant clusterfuck, but I'd say that Wizarding Britain has the biggest debts to pay. But there just aren't enough people in positions of power to make a push for change. The majority of the Wizarding World still hates Dark Creatures, and is perfectly happy to ignore the situation and let H.A.W.E. run amok, injecting chaos whenever it looks like different factions might make peace."

"Is that what the Aurors do over there?" Tonks asked cautiously, her head swimming slightly from the Firewhiskey she had surprised herself by finishing. "Do you try and negotiate peace between groups?"

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. "The Ministry – or more specifically, _Dolores Umbridge_ – has created strict guidelines about what we can and cannot do."

His nose wrinkled in disgust when he mentioned Dolores Umbridge's name. Harry reasoned that she must not be a very pleasant person.

"If the Ministry pulled us out, it would call attention to the whole situation again, and they don't want that," Sirius continued. "So they limit what we can do. We can look for old supporters of Voldemort, we can distribute a set amount of food and medical supplies, and we can investigate and look for members of H.A.W.E."

"Who are remarkably hard to find," James grumbled, running his hand tiredly down his face.

"As for trying to negotiate peace…" Sirius continued, "well, that's where Remus comes in."

The children perked up at the mention of their favorite teacher.

"James and I met Remus just a few weeks after Kamena. He managed to convince a pack of very angry, very desperate werewolves that we were friends, not enemies. He goes places we would never dare to go, and talks to people who would kill us on sight, because they assume that outsiders are there to hurt them and their families. He knows the land, he knows the languages, he knows the _people_. And he _cares_. He cares so much that it's sometimes painful to talk to him, cause I don't know how he keeps going back. I don't know how he keeps investing time and energy and love into people who quite often end up dead."

"But if he didn't go back, things would get a lot worse," Alice interjected. "It seems like a useless battle, but he _is_ making a difference. Several werewolf factions have formed alliances, some of the vampires are coming round to the idea of cooperating with us… none of that would have happened without him. He still makes the trip on weekends, the poor boy. Last time I saw him he looked practically dead on his feet."

"So _that's_ why he's never in his office on weekends!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And that's why he looks so ill so much of the time!" Ginny echoed. At this, Sirius glanced at James, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"He's from Bulgaria, isn't he?" Tonks said, vividly remembering the haunted look in his changing eyes. "He said he was raised by a British family near the Greek border."

Sirius nodded, looking suddenly wary.

"What…" Tonks stumbled over her words, deathly afraid of the answer to her question, but unable to stop herself from asking. "What about his family? Are they safe? Are they… are they Dark Creatures?"

Sirius stared at her for a long moment, searching her eyes intently. She held her ground, holding his gaze. She could tell that the other teenagers in the room were also waiting on tenterhooks for Sirius's answer. Finally, her cousin spoke, slowly and deliberately.

"If there's one thing I've learned in Eastern Europe, cuz, it's that you don't ask anybody about their family. Very rarely do you get an even remotely pleasant story. I joke about Remus having a brood of little Lupins out there somewhere, and wouldn't it be nice if that were true. But he doesn't talk about it, and I don't ask. If you care about his feelings at all, you won't ask either."

**Thanks for the reviews guys!**


	9. Chapter 8

_He needed to save them. He couldn't let them die at the hands of the others – the cruel ones with skulls on their forearms. Perhaps The Dark One would let his snake eat them, slowly, one at a time… No. No, he would get them out. He MUST get them out, for he had looked into the woman's mind and seen a baby, a child that she loved as much as his own mother had loved him. He hadn't saved his mother. Too small, too WEAK. But he was bigger now. He could save this woman, and the man as well._

_The Dark One had tortured them. Crucio after crucio until he thought he would be sick. They would not last another day, their minds would be lost._

_He stood at the doorway to their cell, staring through the bars at them as they huddled together on the filthy floor. If someone caught him here, if someone caught him trying to help them… He did not fear death, but he did fear The Dark One. He feared the look in his cold eyes as he dealt out pain and despair to those who displeased him. He feared the Crucios, and he feared the snake, and he feared the cruel hands of the others…_

_If he left now, nobody would ever know he had been here. Nobody would ever know that he had contemplated rebellion._

_But the woman looked up. Her eyes found his, and once again he saw in her mind a baby boy, not even a month old – the only reason she had held on this long. And he made his choice._

_The woman opened her mouth, eyes confused as she looked at him. But he held a dirty finger to his lips, warning her to silence. He would not understand her words anyway. She spoke the same strange language as the others._

_He unlocked the cell door with a wave of his hand. If The Dark One ever found out that he could do wandless magic, he would be dead in seconds. The woman scrambled to her feet, dragging the man up with her. The man was in bad shape, had been under the Cruciatus for longer. It was a long trek to the edge of the anti-Apparition zone, and the man would slow them down. But something in the woman's fierce gaze told him that leaving the man behind was not an option._

_He held the door open, frantically motioning for her to come out. After only a moment of hesitation, she complied, almost dragging the man along with her. She flinched as he waved his hand yet again, disillusioning them so they blended in with the bloodstained walls of the dungeon. Then he grabbed her sleeve, tugging them along behind him as he navigated the labyrinth of corridors that led to the upper levels of The Dark One's castle. His heart pounded and blood roared in his ears as he peered around every corner, praying that the others were all still asleep._

_Finally, they reached their destination; a small window that he had spotted earlier. It faced the dark tangle of woods, and he had painstakingly removed the heavy magical wards that covered every other window and door in the castle. He looked at the woman, and she nodded, mouth set in grim determination. Murmuring to the man in their strange language, she helped hoist him up through the window and quickly followed._

_Suddenly, he could hear footsteps coming down the hallway. Cursing, he leapt for the window, slithering through and pushing it closed before grabbing the woman's sleeve again and plunging into the forest. Their escape would be noticed soon, and they had miles to go before he could send them to safety._

_The forest was thick and labyrinthine, branches clawing at them from all sides as though the very trees were trying to return them to The Dark One. The man and woman were exhausted, weak, barely able to stay on their feet. But he dragged them along, making soft noises of frustration when they lagged behind. There was no time to be weak, no time to be hurt. There was only the border of the anti-Apparition zone ahead, and the minions of The Dark One behind._

_Sensitive ears picked out the sound of angry shouts far behind them. Their escape had been discovered. His pace quickened even more, and he guided them swiftly along the bank of a wide river and past a plunging waterfall. Not far now, not far._

_The man stumbled and fell, and the woman cried out desperately. He turned back, heart in his throat and hands shaking with adrenaline. With a strength that he hadn't known he possessed, he hauled the man up and practically carried him onward, barely registering that the man was more than twice his size. The border was just there, just there…_

_And suddenly, they were beyond it. He let the man fall to his knees, turning to the man and woman and preparing the spells that would take them to safety. When he looked up, they were both staring at him in wonder. In their minds, he could see their confusion – why was he helping them? Who was he? But there was no time, no time to try and explain. He could smell the others on the wind, he could smell their anger. He raised his hands._

_But the woman grabbed his wrist lightly. She spoke, but he did not understand her words. Instead, he looked into her mind. She was asking if he was coming with them, if he was escaping too. But he had known before he even opened the door to their cell that for him, there was no escape. The Dark One would always find another person to hurt, another person to kill, another person who reminded him of his mother. He could not leave, knowing that no help would come to them. And he could not let this woman remember him. It was too dangerous._

_He stepped back, shaking his head slowly. His hands moved in a memory spell, and watched as their faces slackened and the past few days disappeared from their minds. He waved his hands again, and they were gone. Gone, back to their baby boy._

_He needed to return to the castle. If the others discovered that he was missing as well, his treason would be discovered. He plunged back into the anti-Apparition zone. But there were angry voices on all sides, cruel shouts and spells exploding all around as the others searched for the escaped prisoners. He ran, ducking through the undergrowth and throwing himself behind trees, but desperation began to seep through his veins as he was pushed closer and closer to the river._

_And then there was nowhere else to go. His blood froze as he heard the quiet, cold tones of The Dark One echo in the trees behind him as his feet slipped on the precipice of the waterfall. The ravine plunged hundreds of feet down, and he knew that he didn't have the strength to magically slow his fall. But The Dark One was getting closer, he would find him in a moment. And any other death was better than the one that would greet him if he was found._

_He looked up. The morning sun was just beginning to peek out above the trees. He closed his eyes and leapt._


	10. Chapter 9

Professor Lupin's class was, if possible, even more intense in the second term. He was teaching the same subject – Dark Creatures – to all years with a passion that was impossible to ignore, and more than a little bit infectious.

Tonks didn't know why she was surprised by his wealth of knowledge on the subject. He had grown up in a part of the world where Dark Creatures were as common as garden gnomes, of course he would know everything about them. But sometimes she had to wonder just how he knew some of the things he told them. Like the fact that a sphinx will roll over and giggle if you tickle it under the chin, or that centaurs are almost always allergic to peanuts.

The week they focused on vampires was probably the most challenging period of Tonks's life up to that point. Not only was Professor Lupin teaching them some incredibly complicated physical and magical defense techniques – he was also challenging everything they had ever been told about vampires and what they were like. A few days in, a question and answer session became especially heated when Daphne Podmore implied that vampires were evil, and therefore deserved to be persecuted.

"Imagine for a second," Professor Lupin said, pacing at the front of the classroom as late February rain pounded against the window outside. "Imagine that you're the child of a vampire. Over 75% of vampire offspring inherit the condition, so chances are, you're a vampire too. Through no fault of your own, you have a condition that makes everyone else hate and fear you. The government registers you as a Dark Creature, and puts a brand on your arm for everyone to see. You stop growing after the age of seventeen, and you stay seventeen for the rest of your immortal life. You're harassed in the street, you're not allowed to go to school, get a job, get married, even walk into a pub. And all the time you have this disease inside you, telling you to drink other people's blood. You don't want to do it, you know it's wrong, but you don't have the money or the means to buy blood substitutes to feed yourself. You're starving, all of your options have been taken away from you, and the people who throw rocks at you in the street are the very people you could eat for dinner. What do people _expect?_ If our actions drive desperate people to do desperate things, we can't then turn around and blame them for it!"

"But not all vampires are as innocent as that!" Tonks surprised herself by interjecting. "Some of them really are evil! Look at Sveinn Nyström!"

A collective shiver went through the classroom. Sveinn Nyström was an infamous, ancient vampire who was reportedly responsible for more than a thousand murders over the past three centuries. He was the elusive subject of many terrifying stories that drunk teenage boys told around bonfires in order to get the girls to snuggle close in fear. Tonks felt a little silly bringing his name up in class, and half expected Professor Lupin to laugh at her, but instead his face darkened abruptly and he turned away, standing with his back to them and his hands on his hips. His head was bowed and his shoulders were tense, and Tonks suddenly felt a stab of worry. Had she hurt him, somehow? What was wrong?

After a long moment, Professor Lupin ran a hand down his face and turned back around, looking suddenly weary.

"You're quite right, Miss Tonks," he said softly, but she felt no amount of pride in the victory. "There are indeed some truly evil vampires in the world. But there are some truly evil humans as well. Imagine what it would be like if we judged all humans based on the actions of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. You cannot judge a group. Anyone who judges by the group is a peewit. You take people one at a time. And vampires – despite what the Ministry desperately wants you to believe – are indeed _people._ "

He leaned back against his desk, running his hand down his face once more.

"I'm not saying that you shouldn't be on your guard when you encounter a vampire," he continued. "You should always be on your guard when you meet a Dark Creature, because they _are_ capable of hurting you. But all of _you_ are now capable of harming others too. You're well trained in dangerous physical and magical combat techniques. Does that mean you're going to go out and start attacking people? Does that mean you want to hurt anyone? _No._ But it does mean that if somebody attacked _you_ , you would know exactly how to incapacitate them. Why is it any different for Dark Creatures? A large proportion of the Dark Creatures in Azkaban are there because they defended themselves and their families when humans attacked them, and the humans got hurt. The Ministry sides with the humans, and the Dark Creatures are sent to Azkaban for life."

Stunned, incredulous silence greeted his words. The students were staring at their professor in horror. Finally, Dennis Arthur asked, "Is that true, sir? How do you know that?"

His voice was shaking with the injustice of it all. Professor Lupin sighed deeply, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I know that because a lot of the people the Ministry sent to Azkaban are my friends. People I knew from Bulgaria who returned to Britain to try and find a better life."

He shifted against his desk, looking slightly uncomfortable with over twenty flabbergasted teenagers staring at him. He continued, and for the first time ever, he avoided eye contact with them, his gaze fixed resolutely on the floor.

"They were good people. They just wanted to live peaceful lives with the resources they needed to control their condition. If vampires and werewolves could get jobs, they would be able to buy blood substitutes and wolfsbane. If humans stopped wasting so much time fearing and persecuting them, then research could be done to increase the effectiveness of those potions, and perhaps even find cures. We could solve the problem, instead of exacerbating it."

He looked around at the rows of thoughtful faces in front of him, still looking weary.

"Does that make sense?" he asked. A few people nodded slowly, but most were still lost in thought, letting his words roll around in their minds. He sighed, running his hand down his face for the third time. "I know it's a lot to think about, and I know that it's hard to let go of ideas that you've had your whole life. Believe me, I understand what it's like to be deeply afraid of something. I have met some truly terrifying Dark Creatures in my time."

He took a deep, shaking breath.

"In fact, the lovely Sveinn Nyström gave me these scars," he said, gesturing to the three parallel lines that ran from his left eye down his cheekbone, and under the collar of his shirt. His voice was strained, and Tonks was entirely certain that Nyström was anything but _lovely_. She heard horrified gasps echo around her at their professor's words.

"But the majority of the Dark Creatures I've met have been incredibly kind," he continued. "A family of vampires living in Estonia took me in for a few days last winter when I got stranded in a snowstorm. They saved my life, and I will always be immensely grateful to them."

He paused for a moment, letting his students digest all this information. It was really the first time he had opened up to them about anything to do with his personal life, and the small anecdotes were compelling, to say the least. After a moment, he continued.

"I guess what I'm trying to get across to you guys is this: you _do_ need to know how to defend yourself from Dark Creatures. You need to know their strengths and weaknesses, because there are indeed some evil people out there. But you also need to understand where the majority of them are coming from. You need to understand why their motivation is quite often desperation, not a desire to hurt people. If you understand that, then you might be able to help solve the _root_ of the problem, instead of just perpetuating the cycle of violence."

There was a long, contemplative silence. Then the bell rang, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws slowly began to pack their bags, still silent for the most part. Professor Lupin never assigned any homework in the traditional sense, had never even asked them to crack open a book. But he always managed to make them really think about something right before the end of class, so that the issue stuck in their minds over the next few days.

Normally, he held the door for them and wished them all well as they exited, but today he walked to the chair behind his desk and fell into it, running a hand through his unruly hair. Tonks took her time packing up, waiting until everyone else had left before approaching his desk.

"Professor Lupin?" she asked tentatively. He looked up.

"Can I help you, Tonks?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, sir, I was just wondering… are you alright?"

He raised a surprised eyebrow, and she quickly continued.

"It's just… you seemed kind of upset when I mentioned…" She trailed off, not wanting to say Nyström's name again. "I just wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to upset you."

The young man's mouth quirked up in a half smile, and his eyes regained some of their twinkling warmth as he looked up at Tonks. He seemed touched by her concern, and she smiled back at him, mentally cursing herself as a swarm of butterflies attacked her stomach.

"It's alright, Tonks," he said, still slumped back in his chair wearily. "You just took me by surprise, that's all. I didn't think that Sveinn was well-known in Britain."

"He's just sort of a… a ghost story, sir."

Lupin gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "That's good, I guess. He's not just a ghost story in Bulgaria."

The haunted tone in his voice, and the way his eyes seemed to focus on something far away from the DADA classroom made Tonks morbidly curious, but she managed to stop herself from asking more questions. It didn't look as though Professor Lupin was in any mood to answer them.

"Okay, well, I'm glad you're okay," she said awkwardly, "I've gotta go to History of Magic now, catch up on my sleep."

She blushed when she realized she had said that aloud. But at least it broke Professor Lupin out of his stupor, as he laughed out loud at her faux pas.

"That bad, eh?" he asked, standing up and sticking his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at her.

"Yeah, well, it's been said that Professor Binns has the charisma of a flobberworm," she grumbled, feeling foolish.

"Guess I'm lucky in that respect," he said, starting to walk her to the door. At her curious look, he continued. "I never really went to school, at least in a formal sense. No boring lectures for me. My family taught me almost everything I know."

He held the door open for her, looking down at her with a smile that was tinged with sadness. As she looked up at him, her cousin's words from Christmas break echoed in her head. _If you care about his feelings at all, you won't ask either…_

"Then I'm sure your family must be very proud of you," she said, boldly resting a hand on his arm. His eyes met hers in an intense gaze, and her breath caught. She needed to get out of there before she did something silly.

"See you tonight at Auror practice," she said quickly, turning and practically tripping out the door. She glared back at him when she heard his soft chuckle, then hurried off to History of Magic. She was most definitely late, but she couldn't bring herself to care.


	11. Chapter 11

Job application deadlines were approaching swiftly. The Auror Training Program required a written application with letters of recommendation, as well as a practical exam. Many of the other jobs that the seventh years wanted had similar requirements, so the nightly practice sessions in the gymnasium were becoming quite strenuous. Professor Lupin was often gone on weekends (probably in Eastern Europe, as Tonks informed her friends), and he seemed to be sick at least once a month, but he still found the time and energy to give them extra coaching.

It was mid-March, and the group of seventh years was practicing methods of fighting vampires, expanding upon what they had learned in class. The teenagers were working up a sweat, shedding layers as they sparred in pairs. Tonks – whose dogged determination to succeed was finally beginning to pay off – had outstripped the skills of her classmates, and therefore found herself facing a grinning Professor Lupin as a practice partner.

Sparring with Lupin was a vastly different proposition than sparring with one of her classmates. It went without saying that he was more experienced, but he was also _ruthless_. He obviously didn't believe in pulling any punches during practice, because Tonks was certain that she was going to have some serious bruises tomorrow. But she was nothing if not competitive, and she quickly found herself matching his ferocity with her own. He may be kicking her ass, but she was not going to go down without a fight.

They had been at it for over an hour, and Tonks was absolutely drenched in sweat. She had morphed her hair into short, neon pink spikes, reasoning that this would serve a dual purpose – keeping it out of her eyes, and potentially distracting her opponent with the garish color. But Professor Lupin was doing quite well at distracting _her_ with a much simpler aesthetic change: he had just removed his button-up flannel, and now stood in front of her wearing a thin cotton t-shirt.

He was in a muscular phase, and Tonks cursed silently to herself as she prepared for his next attack. _No fair_ , she thought, briefly contemplating the idea of removing her own shirt in retaliation. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a small smirk on his lips that made her wonder whether he could read her thoughts. She glared at him, determination doubling. She did _not_ have a crush on him. And if he thought that baring his – admittedly very well-sculpted and mysteriously scarred – biceps at her was going to distract her from wiping the floor with his face, then he had another thing coming.

He grabbed her in the tight chokehold they had been practicing. Her muscles ached with overuse, but this time defeat was not an option. She grabbed his wrist like he had taught them. But this time, she remembered a technique from her childhood, when the neighborhood kids had bullied her for her strange hair colors and uncontrollable morphing. Gripping his wrist in both hands, she bored her thumbs ruthlessly into the pressure point near his vein. He gave a surprised yelp, his grip on her loosening slightly. Seizing the opportunity, she pried herself free and twisted around, using leverage and a strength she hadn't even known she possessed to bend his arm backward, driving him to the floor. She drove her knee into his back and pulled a wooden stake out of her belt, positioning it right over his heart.

"If you were a vampire, you'd be in pretty deep shit right now," she said breathlessly, her heart pounding so loud that she was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Somewhere in the distance, her fellow students were cheering. She released the man beneath her and stood up shakily, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. Lupin jumped to his feet, turning to her with a grin that split his face and eyes that shone with pride. And then, to her complete surprise, he picked her up in a tight hug and whirled her around, laughing in excitement.

"That was brilliant!" he exclaimed, returning her feet to the floor but seeming to forget that his arms were still around her waist. She met his bright hazel eyes and grinned, momentarily forgetting that she _refused_ to have a crush on him, and reveling in the feeling of his body pressed against hers. For a moment it was like they were the only people in the room, standing there grinning at each other like idiots. She could have sworn that his gaze flickered to her lips and back up, and her breath caught, but then he was taking a step back, shaking his head slightly as if he had suddenly remembered where – and who – they were.

Suddenly looking self-conscious, he removed his arms from her waist and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, pushing it out of his eyes and off his forehead. She had never really been this close to him, and her gaze was drawn to his right temple where, in a place that was normally covered by his shaggy hair, she could see a large, misshapen scar. Upon closer inspection, she saw that his skull was actually slightly indented around the scar, and she let out an involuntary gasp. That was a horrific injury, how in the name of Merlin had it happened? Her concerned eyes flickered back to his, and he looked instantly uncomfortable as he realized what she had seen. He pushed his mop of hair back over the scar and gave her a wan smile. But she did not have a chance to contemplate it further, as she suddenly found herself surrounded by her excited classmates.

Practice was most definitely over, because there was no way anyone was going to be able to top the display Tonks had just given. The students decided that the only proper way to celebrate the fact that one of their own had managed to best their teacher was to go to the kitchens for a late night snack. After not very much convincing, Professor Lupin was roped into accompanying them, and the excited group began traipsing in the direction of sandwiches and left over pastries. But Tonks, who was being pulled along between Clarence and Terry, managed to sneak occasional glances at the young man, and saw him flattening his hair over his right temple, his eyes distant and troubled. Then she remembered the way he had smiled at her as he twirled her around. Tonks didn't know what was in Remus Lupin's past, and she didn't know if she would ever find out. But she _did_ know that he looked absolutely incredible when he smiled. _If I have anything to say about it_ , she thought resolutely, _then he's going to smile a lot more often._

 

**Thanks for the kudos!**


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione Granger was in heaven. Or was it hell? The past few months of DADA class had been a whirlwhind of learning, and there was absolutely no hope of keeping up with all the books she was trying to read. Not that Professor Lupin ever assigned any reading (which struck her as rather odd), but she wanted to supplement her classwork with library work. Even with the Time Turner, she couldn't fully research every topic that Professor Lupin taught before he moved to the next one. Already they had covered boggarts, veelas, sphinxes, centaurs, vampires, manticores, and banshees. They had learned an array of healing spells, and he had taught them the Patronus Charm to defend themselves from Dementors. He had also given them some basic instruction in wandless magic, which was an incredibly powerful, but immensely difficult and draining form of wizardry. He taught each subject thoroughly, but it really did seem as though he was on a mission to cram as much information into one year as he possibly could. May was right around the corner, and with it came the prospect of final exams. Professor Lupin's evaluation at the end of the previous term had been difficult enough, Hermione didn't even want to think about how hard the final exam was going to be… she needed to find more time to read.

Professor Lupin seemed uncharacteristically uptight today. As Hermione walked to her seat between Harry and Ron, she noticed that the man was fidgeting – drumming his hands against his thighs in an indistinguishable rhythm as he perched on the edge of his desk. His left foot was tapping the ground rapidly, further demonstrating a strangely nervous energy. As soon as the last of the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins took their seats, he leapt to his feet.

"I hope you all had a good weekend," he said, beginning to pace slowly across the front of the classroom. By now, his students recognized this behavior. Harry and Ron exchanged rueful grins, and even Draco cracked a thin smile as they prepared themselves for another impassioned speech. Professor Lupin was nothing if not passionate, and they were beginning to love him for it.

"These past few months, I've taught you about a large number of the Dark Creatures that exist in the world today," he said, his eyes fixed on the floor. "You've learned how to identify them, how to defend yourselves from them, and – I hope – you have all learned to see them as much more than just Creatures to be feared. We have one more Dark Creature to cover before the final exam. Today, we're going to start talking about werewolves."

A small squeak of fear echoed from someone in the back of the room. Professor Lupin looked up, an unreadable expression on his face. His mouth tightened slightly before he continued.

"First off, what do you know already about werewolves? Let's see what we have to work with. Can anybody tell me what a werewolf is, for starters? Neville?"

The dark-haired boy – normally timid and quiet in class – had begun to emerge from his shell over the past year as the Slytherins had slowly stopped tormenting him, following Draco's lead. Now, Neville spoke with quiet confidence.

"A werewolf is someone who transforms into a wolf under the light of a full moon," he said.

"Very good, Neville," Professor Lupin said. "You're quite right. A werewolf is a human with a condition called _lycanthropy_. Once a month, the human transforms into a wolf, both in body and mind. If the individual drinks Wolfsbane potion, they are able to retain their human mind throughout the physical transformation. But otherwise, the wolf mind takes over and runs wild. There is almost nothing in the world more dangerous than a transformed werewolf who hasn't taken Wolfsbane. Can anyone tell me when the next full moon is?"

Hermione raised her hand eagerly. "The next full moon is in four days, on May 3rd!"

"Excellent, Hermione," he said. "It's always a good idea to keep track of the moon cycles, you never know when that knowledge will come in handy. How does a human become infected with lycanthropy?"

Draco raised his hand slowly, and Professor Lupin nodded at him, giving him a small smile.

"They're either bitten by a werewolf, or they're born with it," the blond boy said quietly.

"Very good, Draco. Bites or scratches from a transformed werewolf transmit the disease. Not many werewolves choose – or have the opportunity – to have children, but when they do, approximately half of the time the child inherits the condition. Also, coming into contact with the blood of a werewolf – even when the individual is human – can be infectious as well. That's why I stressed body substance isolation so strongly when we were learning healing spells – you never know what diseases a person might have. You don't want be infected with something like lycanthropy just because you forgot to put on gloves when you healed someone."

"Is it just blood?" Pansy asked. "I mean, if you kissed a werewolf while they were human, would you get it from their saliva?"

A titter of laughter sounded around the room, and the girl blushed self-consciously. Professor Lupin smiled broadly at her question, suddenly looking much more relaxed as he leaned his shoulder against the wall at the front of the classroom and crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's actually a very good question, Pansy," he said, eyes twinkling at the blushing girl. "No, you cannot get lycanthropy from someone's saliva. So if you meet a nice boy who also happens to be a werewolf, go right ahead and kiss him – he'll probably be absolutely ecstatic."

He grinned at the laughter this inspired before continuing.

"I'm glad you asked that, because I think most people have a very inaccurate sense of how dangerous werewolves are when it's not full moon. The only way you can get lycanthropy from a non-transformed werewolf is by somehow getting their blood into your own bloodstream."

"What about feral werewolves, sir?" Neville asked. "Don't they bite people when it's not full moon?"

Professor Lupin pushed away from the wall, running a hand through his hair.

"Technically yes, that has happened. But victims of feral attacks never contract lycanthropy unless, again, they are unlucky enough to either ingest some of the werewolf's blood or get it into an open wound."

He paused for a moment, starting to pace again.

"Neville has brought up a very important point. Some of you may not be familiar with the term 'feral werewolf'. A feral is someone who acts like a wolf even when they are physically human. They are also the only kind of werewolf it is worth being afraid of. I'm sure you've all heard stories about people going insane and biting others in broad daylight. Most people believe this happens because the wolf mind is always present, ready to take over the human mind when it is vulnerable. However, this isn't strictly true. Going feral, in reality, has less to do with being a werewolf and a lot more to do with mental illness.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, confused. Professor Lupin frowned, obviously trying to think of the best way to explain.

"The life of a werewolf is hard," he began. "Very hard. Even with Wolfsbane, transformations are agonizing and exhausting. _Without_ it, the wolf mind rages against any restraints the human might have put on it. People with lycanthropy will use anything – a cage, a magically warded room, even chains – to control the wolf during full moons, and quite often this leaves them badly wounded afterwards. Without any other form of distraction, the wolf will take to biting and clawing itself, and since werewolf bites and scratches cannot be healed with magic, the individual is left in an almost constant state of pain and ill health."

The students were staring at their professor in mute horror, but his eyes were fixed resolutely on the floor as he continued.

"Add that to the endless fear and shame of living in a world where everyone hates you for something you cannot change, and you get a very unhappy individual. Not many people are strong enough to deal with it alone, which is why most werewolves live in very close-knit communities of friends and family members, many of whom also have the disease. The Ministry refers to these communities as _packs_ , probably because they like to make werewolves sound as much like animals as they can. But being around other people with lycanthropy makes it easier to bear, especially during the full moon, when the presence of other werewolves calms the wolf mind somewhat."

Professor Lupin took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

"People who turn feral are often individuals who don't have that support, for one reason or another. Some of them may be predisposed to mental illness, some of them simply cannot handle the pain… whatever the reason, they turn to the only thing they have left – the wolf. I can't say I fully understand the mentality of it, but I do know for a fact that a feral is _not_ a wolf mind inside a human body. The wolf mind only surfaces during the full moon. Perhaps ferals think that since the world has decided they are animals, then they may as well embrace it. Perhaps it is a way of coping with the lack of control they have over their own bodies and minds. Some of them truly want to inflict pain on others. Whatever the motivation, ferals make no effort to restrain themselves during the full moon, and are therefore the most common spreaders of the disease. During the War, people like Fenrir Greyback and Alastair Smythe would kidnap children and keep them captive until the full moon, when they would unleash the wolf on them."

The students were far from unfamiliar with the names he had mentioned, or with the horrific things they had done. Professor Lupin continued, his voice almost shaking with intensity.

"There are some truly _horrible_ werewolves out there in the world, people whose minds are so twisted and so damaged that they have no amount of human compassion left. But do you remember what I said when we were talking about vampires? _You take people one at a time._ Do you know how many ferals there are in the world?"

Nobody offered an answer, morbid curiousity hanging in the air.

"Less than a hundred. I know that for a fact, because I helped gather the data. Do you know how many werewolves there are in the world?"

More silence.

"Over _twenty thousand_ ," he said, letting the number echo around the room for a moment. "Twenty thousand people who are just trying to live peaceful lives while dealing with a terrible curse. Twenty thousand people who chain themselves to walls during the full moon; who would rather _die_ than spread their disease. Does that mean there aren't accidents, awful mistakes? No. But I guarantee that if more werewolves had access to Wolfsbane, the number of accidents would decrease exponentially. I guarantee that if people with lycanthropy were offered support and sympathy instead of hatred and rocks aimed at their heads, there would be a lot fewer ferals, and a lot fewer attacks. Again, if we solve the _root_ of the problem, instead of just trying to burn all the branches, then we might actually make the world a better place for everyone."

There was a long, contemplative silence. Professor Lupin was breathing rather heavily, clearly impassioned. Then, after a long moment, he suddenly smiled self-consciously and ran a hand through his hair sheepishly.

"I apologize, I seem to have wandered off track a bit," he said. "Got a little carried away there. This was supposed to be an introduction to werewolves, not the whole damn textbook. Let's backtrack a little, talk about something practical instead of my usual philosophical rant. Can anyone tell me a way you could defend yourself from a werewolf, if it was attacking you on the full moon?"

Hermione raised her hand tentatively. At his nod, she spoke.

"You can't use magic on them. Don't you have to use weapons made of silver?"

"Yes, but they don't necessarily have to be made of silver. Hermione is quite right, and this is one of the most important points of the lesson – _magic does not work on a transformed werewolf_. You can send as many spells, jinxes, or even Unforgivable curses as you can think of at a werewolf on a full moon, and they will just bounce right off. The only way to defend yourself from an attacking werewolf is through physical violence. Banish something sharp in their direction, hit them with a club, shoot them with a gun… Silver severely burns werewolves, even when it isn't the full moon, so that always helps. The Ministry's Werewolf Capture Unit carries tranquilizer guns that fill a werewolf's bloodstream with traces of silver, which is an extremely effective weapon."

"What about when it's not the full moon?" Seamus Finnegan asked eagerly. "Does magic work on werewolves when they're not transformed?"

Professor Lupin nodded shortly.

"Yes, it does. The only spell that affects werewolves differently when it isn't full moon is the _Cruciatus_ curse. Werewolves have incredibly high pain thresholds, so it takes a very powerful _crucio_ to have any effect."

Most of the students winced at that. The idea of shrugging off a _crucio_ was absolutely ludicrous.

"That's not the only difference though, is it?" Harry asked. "Between a human and a werewolf, I mean. Besides the obvious transforming into a wolf every month, how can you tell if someone's a werewolf?"

There was a very long silence. Professor Lupin was looking at Harry with a strangely intense gaze, and the black-haired boy began to get slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Finally, Lupin spoke, every word careful and measured, as though he was putting immense thought into each one.

"There are… signs to look for, that would indicate if someone had lycanthropy. This is Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and I know there may come a time when you all need to know those signs. There may come a time when you need to be able to recognize if someone is a werewolf. But…"

He ran a hand down his face, looking suddenly weary. He propped his lean body against the edge of his desk, looking out at them with wary, golden brown eyes. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and his gaze was distant, as though he was mostly talking to himself.

"I don't think any of you fully comprehend how much of a weapon that knowledge could be. How easily you could ruin, even _end_ someone's life, even if you had nothing but good intentions. There are hundreds, possibly even thousands of werewolves in Britain who live in constant fear of being discovered, of being registered and branded as Dark Creatures. The moment that brand is on their skin, they face endless persecution here. And their only other option is emigrating to places like Bulgaria, where Dark Creatures are hunted down and murdered every day by people who hate them for no reason. Knowing what these werewolves are hiding from, knowing just what awaits them if they are discovered… how can I give _children_ the tools to expose them?"

"We're not _children_!" Harry exclaimed, feeling defensive for some reason he didn't fully understand. "And we're not going to go around pointing out all the werewolves we see! You've spent the past year teaching us to see Dark Creatures as people, do you really think none of that has sunk in?"

His classmates were nodding in agreement, but Professor Lupin looked unconvinced.

"Harry, while I appreciate the sentiment, I am under no illusions that there aren't still people in this room who, if they actually met a werewolf, would run screaming to the nearest Auror. And it is perfectly natural for them to have that reaction, they have been conditioned to it for their entire lives."

"I've been terrified of werewolves ever since I was three, and my brother told me about Fenrir Greyback," Lavender Brown called out boldly from the back of the room. Professor Lupin's eyes swung to meet hers. "A werewolf was my Boggart, and I still have nightmares about it sometimes."

Lupin's eyes dimmed slightly, but Lavender wasn't finished.

"But I think… I think I'm scared of werewolves mostly because they've always just been some sort of ghost story to me. Scary things that my brother told me to keep me up at night. I don't know how I would react if I actually met one in real life. But maybe, if they were a normal person like you say they are… maybe I wouldn't be so scared of them anymore."

Professor Lupin stared at her for so long that she blushed and ducked her head. The room was absolutely silent as the students watched their teacher having what looked to be a fairly intense internal debate. Finally, at long last, Professor Lupin stood and walked behind his desk, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the chalkboard that he never used. He took a deep breath, hesitated, then spoke rapidly in a quiet, strangely monotone voice.

"A werewolf will always have scars. Scratches, bites, marks from chains and other restraints. Werewolves have heightened senses of smell, taste, sight, and hearing. These become especially strong right before the full moon. Werewolves are physically stronger than humans, and heal much faster. They often feel quite ill in the days leading up to a full moon, and this, combined with a heightened metabolism, can cause some werewolves to have dramatic shifts in weight throughout the month. Some werewolves experience other changes throughout the month, such as increased libido, or changing eye color."

Professor Lupin came to an abrupt stop, his ramble of facts complete. The classroom was eerily silent. His eyes were fixed on the top of his desk, his shoulders hunched tensely. He looked like he was expecting a harsh blow at any moment, and when the bell suddenly rang he flinched violently.

Nobody made a move to pack up and leave. Nobody breathed. They simply stared at him, waiting for him to look up at them. But he never did. He wiped a shaking hand across his mouth, and simply said, "I would appreciate it if you all kept this information to yourselves. Not everyone is as open-minded as I hope you all are."

Still purposefully avoiding their eyes, he walked briskly to the door and left, leaving them in stunned silence.

 

**To give credit where credit is definitely due, much of the inspiration for this scene was taken from Jess Pallas's wonderful fic Oblivious.**


	13. Chapter 13

May 2, 1994 dawned to find Nymphadora Tonks, 18-year old Metamorphmagus extraordinaire, sitting in her bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, eyes wide and red from a night of no sleep and too many tears. The Auror Training Program would send out acceptance and rejection letters this very morning. Tonks had written a compelling application, Professor Lupin had given her a glowing recommendation, and she had truly aced the practical exam four days prior. She should have been in raptures of anticipatory joy. But instead she felt as though her world had come to an end.

The past month and a half had been incredible. Her victory over Professor Lupin in the Room of Requirement had heralded a breakthrough not only for herself, but for her fellow students. Months of practice finally began to pay off as their skills solidified, and their motions and decisions became confident and deliberate. Tonks knew that she had another three years of training left before she was a qualified Auror, but part of her already felt prepared to face anything the world could throw at her. It wasn't very long before she was not the only one who occasionally managed to beat Professor Lupin in a sparring match. The man was clearly thrilled by this, and as their skills increased, he began to seem much less intimidating, and much more open.

Only last week, Tonks had bested him yet again, using another weapon from her childhood arsenal. They had been dueling, and he had surprised her by boldly grabbing her wand hand and pulling her to the floor, pinning her down. Unable to shift his weight, inspiration suddenly struck. Wriggling her other hand free, she tickled his side and armpit mercilessly, and he twisted away from her, laughing uncontrollably. She wasn't sure if it was from the tickling itself, or the fact that she had so brazenly utilized it as a weapon, but whatever the cause, she took full advantage of the effect and found herself practically straddling a still laughing Remus Lupin, pinning his arms to the ground and holding her wand to his throat.

She knew this was not a victory she would have obtained had they really been fighting, but she found herself unable to care as she looked into his twinkling eyes, once again very close to her own. He was grinning up at her, and she could feel his body still quaking with laughter.

"Very sneaky, _Nymphadora_."

She kneed him in the ribs.

"It's not very wise to annoy someone who's pointing a wand at your throat, _Remus_."

Her boldness shocked her, but his grin only widened.

"Ah, but are you?"

Before she could even blink, he had broken her grip on his hands, snatched her wand, and flipped them both over so he was once again pinning her to the ground. Her mouth fell open in shock.

"Never underestimate a cornered enemy, 'Dora," he said. He had clearly been trying to make a point, but his expression dissolved into embarrassment when he realized what he had called her. Her heart melted a little bit, both from the nickname and from his increasingly flustered look when he realized just how compromising a position they were in, and how many other people were still in the room.

He catapulted to his feet, and she immediately missed the warmth of his body against hers. A furious blush threatening at his cheeks, he reached down to help her up. In his flustered state he seemed to forget his own strength, and pulled her to her feet so quickly that she lurched forward into his chest. She looked up to meet his embarrassed eyes, and for the hundredth time Tonks found herself wondering just how old he was. With his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and slightly stunned expression, he barely looked any older than she was.

"I kinda like 'Dora', actually," she murmured to him, with no memory of telling her mouth to say anything. Her hand was still encased in his warm, calloused palm, and for one truly insane moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

But he stepped away and the spell was broken, Tonks suddenly remembering that they were actually in a room full of her classmates. Looking around surreptitiously, she was relieved to see that most of her friends had been too wrapped up in their own duels to notice her blatantly flirting with their professor. Terry and Clarence, on the other hand, wore matching Cheshire cat grins as they caught her eye from across the room. Terry wagged his eyebrows up and down suggestively at her, and it was her turn to blush.

It had been wonderful and terrifying, confusing and electrifying all at the same time.

And then yesterday, everything had changed.

If only Terry hadn't asked that _stupid_ question. Why was it even important to know how to spot someone with lycanthropy? If they were only dangerous on full moons, why did it _matter_? And why had Professor Lupin agreed that they needed to know, why had he told them the signs?

The logical part of Tonks's brain knew that what had happened was necessary. She would need to know the signs of lycanthropy as an Auror, or else she could put herself and others in danger. But knowing _why_ she needed it didn't make the truth any easier to bear.

Professor Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

He was a werewolf, and she really _should_ have already known. The signs, now that he had spelled them out so clearly, were obvious. He was raised by a British family in Bulgaria for Merlin's sake; that in itself should have been a big enough clue. And yet here she was, still awake at five in the morning, barely even able to remember that today she would find out if her childhood dream of being an Auror was going to come true.

What had stolen her sleep was not the fact that Professor Lupin was a werewolf. It was not even the fact that she had – against her will – developed an incredibly large _crush_ on a werewolf. No. What had kept her tossing and turning and torturing herself the whole night was _shame_. Shame, and self-loathing.

He had told them the signs at the very end of class, probably so that he could escape from what was bound to be an incredibly awkward moment. The bell rang, but nobody moved. Tonks was so shocked that she found herself unable to even look at Professor Lupin. Her mind was in shambles, she couldn't form a coherent thought, and her gaze was fixed unseeing on the floor. But every other sense in her body was honed in on him, and she could feel him looking at her. She could feel his fear, his uncertainty, his intense desire to know what she was thinking. And she could hear him take a step towards her desk, the eyes of twenty other students following him.

"Dora…"

Remembering the tone of his voice now, hours later, brought fresh tears to her eyes. He had sounded so young, so heartbreakingly _vulnerable_. It was as though she had held his heart in her hands… and then thrown it on the floor and stomped on it.

She ran. She leapt to her feet and _ran out the door_ , leaving him standing, shattered, in front of a room full of her classmates. Hours later and she still didn't know why. Perhaps it was the shock of finding out in such a straightforward, clinical manner. Perhaps it was the way her mother's lips curled in disgust every time she mentioned the word _werewolf_. Maybe she was more like her Aunt Bellatrix than she had thought. Maybe she was a bigoted, racist _bitch_.

And so she had cried all night long, and questioned everything she had ever known about herself. And she waited for the morning to come.

 

Concealing the bags under her eyes and the redness that came from nearly eight straight hours of crying took quite a feat of morphing. If she hadn't been so miserable, Tonks might have congratulated herself on how normal she looked. She just couldn't manage a bright hair color though, and went down to breakfast wearing her subdued, natural brown locks.

She had avoided her friends, not wanting to answer their questions about why she had bolted, why she had treated Professor Lupin like that. Seeing Clarence in the entrance hall, she quickly averted her gaze and turned to make for the Great Hall, eyes on the floor. But she let out a small sound of dismay when she ran into something solid.

Heart filled with trepidation, she raised her gaze to find that the something was, in fact, Remus Lupin, who had also been heading for the Great Hall.

He looked awful. A distant part of Tonks's brain registered that he _would_ look awful, the full moon was _tomorrow_. But she had never seen him looking this unhealthy, this stressed, this miserable. His face was lined with exhaustion, covered in a thicker layer of blond stubble than was usual. He was almost painfully skinny, his shoulders hunched as though he was doing his best to disappear entirely. He looked positively ill, and if the bags under his eyes were any indication, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night either.

She raised her eyes to his, dreading the condemnation she would find there. But what she saw was even worse.

He was _ashamed_. She didn't see an ounce of anger in his eyes, not an ounce of betrayed confidence. He didn't blame her _one bit_. His eyes were resigned and hopeless. Her reaction was the one he had been _expecting_. And that realization made Tonks sick to her stomach.

She opened her mouth. What she planned on saying, she didn't know, but she prayed to Merlin that it would be something, _anything_ that would take that look off his face and keep it off forever. She never wanted to see that look from anyone ever again.

But whatever words she was going to use, he didn't give her a chance to say them. He was stepping back from her, head ducking down in a subordinate motion that just looked _wrong_ coming from him.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tonks," he said in a dull voice. "I'm so sorry."

And then he was gone, walking into the Great Hall, leaving her standing there with her mouth still open. She didn't move. She was frozen in place, staring at where he had been only moments before. How had she fucked things up so badly?

Professor Snape brushed by her on his way to breakfast. He caught her eye and sneered.

"I thought you were just the class clown," he said nastily. "Little did I know you could be so _malicious_."

He swept away, leaving her gasping for air. He was right, he was so right. But since when did Snape care about anyone, let alone Professor Lupin? And how had it come to this – the most unpleasant professor Hogwarts had ever seen, defending a werewolf's feelings from _her_?

Numb and still unable to form coherent thoughts, Tonks walked on unsteady legs into the Great Hall. She collapsed at the Hufflepuff table next to Terry, feeling like a steaming pile of dragon dung. Terry, to his credit, took one look at her face and refrained from saying anything to her. She stabbed at a hard boiled egg half-heartedly, feeling nauseous. Stealing a glance up at the staff table, she could see Professor Lupin slumped in his chair, also looking entirely unenthused by the idea of food. His eyes flickered frequently to the door, and Tonks continued to watch him, wondering why he looked so uncomfortable.

Then she looked around at the other students in the Great Hall, and suddenly understood. The seventh years weren't the only ones he was teaching about werewolves. They weren't the only ones he would have told. As Tonks looked around at her fellow students, she saw several other people casting surreptitious glances at the disheveled man slumped at the staff table. She could see Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Pansy huddled at one end of the Gryffindor table, whispering furiously and shooting concerned glances at Professor Lupin. Tonks felt a painful stab of guilt. _They_ probably hadn't run out of the room when they found out, and they were _thirteen_. What was _wrong_ with her?

She looked back at Professor Lupin, who was now staring at the door resolutely, his jaw clenched and his entire body tense, as though he was steeling himself for a fight. Then she understood. He was sure that someone was going to turn him in. He was expecting the Werewolf Capture Unit to come crashing into the Great Hall at any moment and haul him away to Azkaban for the rest of his life. And suddenly, Nymphadora Tonks just couldn't take it anymore. She was going to march up there and put her arms around him and tell him she was sorry, she was _so sorry_ , and she would fight _anyone_ who tried to hurt him…

Her muscles were tensed to stand up when a large Ministry owl landed on her hard boiled egg with a squelching sound. She yelped in surprise, and took the letter from its beak, starting to rip it open without even thinking about what it could be. Her mind was still on Professor Lupin, and how she was going to make him smile again – _oh_.

_Miss Nymphadora Tonks,_

_It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into the Auror Training Program of Great Britain. Classes commence at 0800 on 1 July, 1994, at the Auror Department in the Ministry of Magic. Please find enclosed a list of required books and supplies._

_Congratulations. I look forward to working with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Alastor Moody, Director of Auror Training_

She raised bewildered eyes to the only person in the room she wanted to share this moment with. Professor Lupin – taking a break from staring at the door like it was the gates of hell – was looking at her intensely. He obviously knew where the letter was from. But when she met his eyes, he immediately averted his gaze, as though ashamed that she had caught him looking at her.

She heard Clarence squealing in excitement as she opened her own letter, and then Terry, but Tonks was already up and moving. Her legs carried her slowly at first, but they gathered speed as she approached the staff table, her eyes fixed on the man who had given her so much, and asked for nothing in return. He finally noticed her coming towards him, and his eyes widened slightly, a look of guarded fear crossing his face as he slowly stood.

"Tonks, what… did you get in?"

She didn't answer. She felt tears filling her eyes again as she tripped up the stairs to the raised dais. And then she threw her arms around him, ignoring the violent flinch he gave at her sudden movements. He stood stiffly, his arms held out to the sides in complete and utter shock.

" _I'm sorry_ ," she sobbed brokenly into his neck. " _I'm so bloody sorry!_ "

The Great Hall had gone very silent at her sudden and bizarre outburst. But she was beyond caring about anything other than the fact that after an agonizingly long moment, Professor Lupin's arms tentatively wrapped around her back. And when it became clear that she really meant it, that this wasn't some cruel joke, that she really _wanted_ to be in his arms… she felt the tension in his body suddenly release, and he was curling around her, pulling her tightly against him as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. For a single, glorious instant, Tonks felt stubble and warm skin pressed against the side of her neck, and her knees went weak when she felt him breathe her in like she was air itself.

For a moment, the occupants of the Great Hall simply stared at the young woman clinging to the man who many of them now knew was a werewolf. And then an appreciative whistle echoed throughout the hall, and the tension was broken by laughter. Disorganized applause and cheering erupted from Professor Lupin's students. Someone who sounded quite a lot like Stanley Shunpike was leading a chorus of _three cheers for Lupin!_ , and somewhere in the back of the room some cheeky bugger called out "GET IT, PROFESSOR!" at the top of his lungs. Despite herself, Tonks let out a small burst of laughter.

The young man pulled away slightly, reluctantly removing his head from the crook of her neck. His golden brown eyes shone with restrained tears. He was staring at her in wonder, a small, disbelieving smile starting to spread across his face.

"I don't _care_ ," she said resolutely, still hiccupping with emotion, but needing to explain, needing to make him see that he shouldn't be afraid. "I really don't. I'm sorry I ran, I was just so _surprised_ , and I didn't know what to do with myself. But I'm not scared of you. You're… you're _Remus Lupin_ , and that's all there is to it."

She watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly, looking completely at a loss for words. That was fine, because she had plenty.

"And by the way, I think you can probably tell by now that everyone else feels the same way I do."

His eyes flickered to the Great Hall behind her, where his students were still laughing and cheering.

"I didn't tell all of them," he said hoarsely, looking back at her. "Only the ones who seemed… _ready_. So I bet half of the people in this room are pretty confused right now…"

She snorted. As the Great Hall slowly began to quiet down again, she reluctantly extricated herself from Professor Lupin's arms.

"Talk to you later?" she asked, suddenly feeling quite self-conscious as she realized that the entire staff table was staring at them. Snape looked strangely satisfied, Professor McGonagall looked scandalized, and Dumbledore looked absolutely delighted by the whole affair, smiling broadly at her from underneath his beard.

She turned to leave, but paused when she felt Professor Lupin's hand on her wrist.

"Dora…" he said, looking at her with eyes that shone with gratitude. " _Thank you_."

She gave him a broken smile.

"You have nothing to thank me for. You're a good man, Professor Lupin. Never let anything, or anyone, tell you differently."

So much for not having a crush on her professor. She wasn't even sure what to call the feeling she had right now, as they stared at each other. It felt like a lot more than a crush. And he wasn't going to be her professor for much longer… With that happy thought, she turned – and promptly tripped over her own robes and fell down the stairs. More laughter resounded throughout the hall, and she couldn't help but join in as a suddenly chuckling Professor Lupin hurried to help her up. It was nice to know that despite the revelations of the past day, and the past few minutes, some things never changed.

 

**Thank you so much for all the kudos! Glad you're enjoying it :)**


	14. Chapter 14

_Fabian Prewett wasn't a man who scared easily, so he knew the situation was dire when he felt his heart rising to his throat. This was supposed to be a routine mission, but now he and Gideon were surrounded by six Death Eaters, and he suddenly knew: there was a spy in the Order. The red-haired twins had done everything right, had remained Disillusioned the entire time… there was no other explanation. As Fabian desperately fended off three black-cloaked figures, his back against his brother's as the two men fought like heroes, he realized with grim horror that they would not live to warn the others._

_His blood froze when he heard Gideon cry out in pain, and felt him slump to his knees. Fabian's eyes filled with tears of helpless rage as he breathed what he was sure would be his last breath._

_And then the alleyway exploded with light. Fabian cried out, trying to cover his eyes. Echoing yells from the Death Eaters around him indicated that they, too, had been blinded. Fabian fell to his knees beside his brother, groping blindly for him. Whatever the light was, it was giving them a miraculous chance to escape…_

_The thud of bodies hitting the ground brought Fabian's attention back up, and his still not quite functioning eyes managed to make out a small, blurry form stunning the remaining Death Eaters as they struggled to regain their sight. He watched, flabbergasted, as the small figure turned and began walking towards the fallen twins, his features becoming clearer as Fabian's eyesight returned._

_Their savior was a child. A small boy, maybe eight or nine years old. He was painfully skinny, clad in tattered trousers held aloft with a piece of string through the belt loops, and an oversized t-shirt that was so dirty and stained that the original color was indistinguishable. He had a long, wild mop of brown hair that hung over his face, hiding his eyes and giving him a distinctly feral appearance. Fabian gaped as the boy crouched several feet away from them, sitting back on his heels and wrapping grubby, scarred arms around his knees as he eyed them both through his brown fringe. Fabian caught a glimpse of glittering amber eyes, and shivered. Instead of the innocence and trust that should be in the eyes of a child, here there was only death._

_The boy jerked his head at Gideon, who had been hit with a cutting curse and a stunner simultaneously. Fabian had tried to perform a blood-clotting spell on the wound, but healing had never been one of his fortes and now he was desperately pressing his cloak into his brother's abdomen, trying to slow the bleeding. The boy looked back up at Fabian, a question in his eyes. Seemingly satisfied with whatever answer he got from Fabian's expression, he crept closer to the unconscious man, and Fabian tightened his hold on his brother. But the boy stretched a small, dirty hand over the wound, and a strange blue glow emanated from his palm, bathing Gideon's chest in light for several seconds._

_"What are you – " Fabian started to ask, but stopped abruptly when he felt the flow of blood from the wound suddenly cease. Shocked, he pulled Gideon's shirt up. The wound was completely healed. He turned wide eyes to the boy, who had retreated to his former position._

_"You – you… you can do wandless magic!"_

_Out of all of the things he could have said to this child, that was the only thing that came out. The boy had saved them from almost certain death, he had healed Gideon, and he looked like he belonged in the arms of his mother, not crouching in some back alley of London, surrounded by pain and destruction. But these thoughts were too much for Fabian's exhausted brain right now, and as he watched the boy cock his head quizzically, he realized that his idiotic words had not been understood._

_"You don't speak English, do you?"_

_The boy shook his head, indicating that he was at least familiar enough with the language to recognize a few words. Fabian was just about to launch into his French when a distant crash from the alley entrance brought both of their heads whipping round. They had lingered for too long._

_"Come with us!" Fabian whispered fiercely at the boy, grabbing his skeletal wrist and preparing to Apparate. But the boy wrenched free, shaking his head. He scrambled to his feet and held his hands to either side of Fabian's temples, his face set in concentration. And suddenly, Fabian could see a detailed image of a pudgy, round-faced man kneeling before the Dark Lord, swearing fealty. The man looked up, and Fabian nearly cried out when he saw his face. Peter. Peter Pettigrew._

_Fabian was too upset to notice as the boy waved his hands in a memory spell. Everything that had occurred after the blinding light was erased from his mind, bar the single image of Peter. And then the twins were suddenly, inexplicably, in a field near Hogsmeade, the calm night wind caressing their sweat-soaked red hair._

_As Fabian and Gideon Prewett returned to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, alive and well, unsure how they had survived but armed with the identity of a traitorous spy, a small boy modified the memories of six Death Eaters. His job done, he spared a moment to look up at the night sky, visible between the tall buildings of London. The moon was almost full. He turned on the spot and vanished._


	15. Chapter 15

The night after the full moon, the Three Broomsticks was packed to the brim with Hogsmeade locals, almost the entire seventh year class of Hogwarts, and one very bemused werewolf professor. Remus Lupin had entered the Room of Requirement that evening looking distinctly rumpled, still recovering from his monthly transformation. He had clearly not been expecting anyone else to be there, as all his trainees had gotten their letters of acceptance along with Tonks and therefore had no pressing reason to practice Defense every night. So it was with a mild look of astonishment that he entered the room to find all fifteen of his trainees waiting for him.

Tonks knew she could not be the only one who found him disarmingly adorable in that moment, his eyes still slightly bleary from sleep and his hair sticking straight up on the side of his head where it had obviously been pressed against a pillow. She grinned at him.

"Wotcher, professor," she said, and his confused eyes flew to meet hers. "Care to join us all for a pint in Hogsmeade? I believe we owe you one after all you did to help us get jobs."

Professor Lupin stared at her blankly for a second, as though he couldn't comprehend the question. Then he slowly looked around at her fellow students, who were grinning eagerly at him.

"You… you all want to go to a pub. With me."

He sounded completely dumbfounded, and Tonks could guess what was going through his mind. He had all but told half the student body that he was a werewolf, and not only had they refrained from turning him in to the Ministry, they were now actively seeking out his company.

"Yep," Terry said matter-of-factly. Professor Lupin shook his head slightly and blinked, as though trying to wake himself from what must be a bizarre dream. But when he looked up they were still there, and he let out a small, disbelieving laugh.

"It – it's not exactly _appropriate_ for me to drink with students. Dumbledore might have something to say about it," he said, reaching up and attempting to flatten his hair into a semi-presentable state.

"We thought you'd say that," said Clarence quickly. "So maybe this time, we can stick to butterbeers, and then we can take you out again after graduation?"

Professor Lupin lowered his hands, his hair incorrigible. His hazel eyes took in the image of fifteen teenagers looking at him with full knowledge of what he was, with no hatred or fear. He swallowed thickly, and nodded.

"Okay," he said, his eyes wide and bright with restrained emotion. "Yeah, that sounds good."

It turned out they were not the only ones who had deemed it a good night to go to Hogsmeade. It was Friday, the first hint of summer was in the air, and the end of term was in sight, so almost all the seventh years were enjoying themselves at various pubs along the main street in the wizarding village. But it only took one person catching a glimpse of Professor Lupin in the Three Broomsticks to spread the word like wildfire, and they hadn't been in the pub for five minutes before almost thirty other teenagers joined them, packing the place to the rafters and sending Madam Rosmerta into raptures of busy joy.

The Weird Sisters was blaring in the background, and loud, happy teenagers and locals occupied all the stools, surfaces, and standing room in the pub. Lupin looked rather overwhelmed by the whole thing, and had managed to wedge himself into a corner booth where he could see the whole room, sipping a butterbeer slowly as he observed the mayhem. Tonks, Terry, Clarence, Stanley Shunpike, and Dennis Arthur had joined him, and Tonks suddenly remembered that Lupin's hearing might still be quite sensitive after the full moon. That would explain his rather shell shocked appearance.

"Are you alright?" she asked, turning her head to look at him. He was sitting right next to her, his back against the wall and his body angled towards her, with his right arm resting on the back of the bench. She was close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating down her entire left side. "We can go somewhere else if you like, if all this noise is hurting your ears."

He looked at her in surprise, clearly unused to someone casually mentioning anything to do with his condition.

"N-no, it's fine. It just… always takes me awhile. To readjust."

He gestured vaguely to his ears, looking mildly uncomfortable as they all nodded. Dennis – who had just gotten a job at the Daily Prophet, and in true Ravenclaw fashion was incredibly inquisitive – cleared his throat and shifted uncertainly in his seat.

"I have to say, Professor – it took an awful lot of nerve for you to tell us," he said, giving the older man a steady look that was full of respect. "I mean… none of us are going to say anything. I'd rather face a full-grown troll all by myself than give you up to the Ministry. I'm pretty sure everyone who knows about you now feels the same way. But… you're still taking quite a gamble on us, Professor Lupin."

The young werewolf looked down into his butterbeer, frowning slightly.

"I know that, Dennis," he said, so softly that they had to strain to hear him over the ruckus. "Merlin help me, I knew the risk I was taking from the moment Albus offered me the job."

He looked back up at them, setting his glass down on the table and continuing in a louder, more confident tone.

"But I also knew that this was an opportunity – perhaps the _only_ opportunity – to show you all that we're… we're not what the Ministry makes us out to be. Dark Creatures, I mean. We have desires and dreams, morals and emotions – the same as anyone else. We're people. And you – all of you, the kids at Hogwarts – you are the future. What you think _matters_ , what you do and what you say matters. You have the ability to make things better, to make _my_ life and the lives of so many others better. You have the power to change the world. And if the price of making even a few of you question your own prejudices is a brand on my chest… well, it's bloody worth it."

Looking suddenly embarrassed to have said so much, he hid behind his butterbeer, draining it. He looked back up at them, his blush deepening as he saw them staring at him in awe.

"I swear I don't do that all the time," he said, his mouth pulling up in a self-conscious smile. "You might not believe me, but I don't normally go on long, drawn out rants about deep, serious shit. I'd like to think I'm usually more fun to take to the pub."

The teenagers laughed, breaking the awestruck silence.

"Speaking of which," Terry said, standing up. "You want another drink, Professor? Anybody?"

He was answered with a chorus of nods, and his friends tossed him a few Sickles. Professor Lupin offered him a handful of Knuts, but the young man shook his head, grinning.

"You're not gonna be paying for drinks for a while, mate."

He disappeared into the crowd, and Professor Lupin shrugged and returned the Knuts to his jacket pocket. Nobody questioned him about carrying his own weight in copper coins. As he lay his hand back down on the table, they could see evidence of past encounters with silver Sickles written into the scar tissue on his fingertips.

"I never got the chance to congratulate you all on your new jobs," he said, looking around at them with a smile. "Are you excited?"

The ecstatic grins he received were answer enough. Tonks was practically bouncing in her seat. But Stanley looked suddenly unhappy. He had applied to work for the Department of Magical Creatures, and had been accepted along with everyone else. Noticing his student's discomfort, Lupin leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.

"Stan? You okay?"

The large boy raised miserable eyes to his teacher, who was looking at him in concern.

"Professor Lupin, I…" he trailed off, looking like he wanted to melt into the floor.

"What's wrong?" Clarence asked, resting a hand on his arm. Stan stole one last, bafflingly guilty look at Professor Lupin, and then fixed his eyes on the table.

"They… they assigned me to the Werewolf Capture Unit," he mumbled, shame turning his pale face bright red. There was a short, tense silence. But it was quickly broken by Professor Lupin, who reached across the table and grabbed Stan's wrist gently.

"Hey," he said, calling the boy's attention back up from the table. "Look at me, Stan."

Miserable blue eyes met his, and he smiled broadly at his student.

"That isn't a bad thing, mate," he said, looking intently at the young man in front of him. "In fact, I think that's a step in the right direction."

At Stan's confused stare, he continued, voice low and passionate.

"The Werewolf Capture Unit is a bunch of bigoted, violent bastards. Do you have any idea how happy it makes me to know that, starting next year, at least one of them will be a good person? That at least one of them will think before he shoots, will do his best to differentiate between the innocent and the guilty?"

Stan was staring at Lupin with shining eyes, looking ten times better than he had only seconds before.

"It's not gonna be easy for you, Stan," Lupin continued, still gripping the boy's wrist. "There are going to be a lot of very prejudiced, outspoken people around you, and you're going to see some of the worst that my kind has to offer. And you're going to see some of the worst that humans have to offer as well. You're going to be exposed to some truly horrible things. But you're strong enough. You're strong enough and you're smart enough to stay true to yourself, to make a difference."

Professor Lupin sat back, releasing a much happier-looking Stanley Shunpike. There was a long, contemplative silence. The young werewolf returned to his corner, yet again looking slightly self-conscious for having said so much.

Tonks finally broke the thoughtful silence with a snort.

"I think Terry took a sidetrip to Pluto on his way to get drinks. I'd better go help him carry them over."

As she stood up, she heard Professor Lupin call out behind her, "Are you sure you're the best person for that job?"

Looking back, she made a rude gesture at him.

"Cheeky," she said, grinning. As she disappeared into the crowd, she heard laughter behind her, and her smile widened as she made out Lupin's wry chuckle.

She finally found Terry at the bar, still trying to catch Rosmerta's attention amongst the throng of people waiting for drinks. She poked him in the side, startling him.

"Let the master show you how it's done," she said, winking at him. Scrunching up her nose, she turned her hair neon red and yelled at the top of her lungs, "OY, ROSMERTA!"

A minute later, they had six freshly poured butterbeers before them. They were just about to carry them back to the corner booth when a sudden hush from the doorway caught their attention. Turning around, they saw what – or rather, _who_ – had brought silence to a quarter of the room's occupants.

A very strange-looking man was standing in the doorway. Tall and broad, he had a bit of a gut on him, and his hair was long, gray, and unkempt. His face looked like it had been carved out of wood by a drunk sculptor – scars that rivaled Lupin's criss-crossed his features, and an entire chunk of his nose was missing. What appeared to be a wooden leg peeked out from underneath jet black robes that bore a sickeningly familiar symbol. But the most alarming aspect of his appearance were his eyes. His left eye was normal, dark and alert, full of sharp intelligence. But his right eye was a vivid, electric blue orb that seemed to have a mind of its own, rotating wildly around the room and occasionally fixating on objects, people, or solid walls with an intensity that made Tonks wonder just what that eye was seeing.

The man stumped forward a bit, and the rest of the room quieted as they caught a glimpse of the Auror symbol emblazoned on his robes. Most of the Hogsmeade locals had left, leaving the Three Broomsticks almost entirely filled with Hogwarts students, and the tension in the room was palpable, especially when the man began to speak.

"I'm looking for Remus Lupin."

Tonks felt her stomach drop sickeningly. No. No, it couldn't be. Nobody would turn him in. Would they?

The man was still speaking.

"I was told he would be here. Anybody know where he is?"

"Who wants to know?"

It took Tonks a moment to realize that the fierce voice asking the aggressive question was her own. Looking vastly more confident than she felt, she placed herself right in the man's path, blocking his view of the corner booth. The feeling of Terry stepping up behind her gave her courage as she stared this terrifying human down, willing him to go away. But the man just looked at her in confusion, his other eye casing the room and taking in the forty or so teenagers who were looking at him coldly.

"It's alright, Tonks."

A weary, soft voice echoed from behind her, and Tonks closed her eyes in helpless defeat. Why was he giving himself up so calmly? Why hadn't he used the delay to run?

But she felt a large, warm hand gently guide her aside as Remus Lupin came to stand directly in front of the Auror, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his worn jeans as he observed the man with a painfully guarded expression. He looked wary, but not entirely resigned to his fate, and as Tonks watched his eyes flicker to the door and back to the single man before him, she suddenly realized that if this Auror were truly here to arrest Professor Lupin, he wouldn't have come alone.

The wild-looking man was staring at Lupin in disbelief, both eyes now fixed on him.

" _You're_ Remus Lupin?"

His tone was dumbfounded. Professor Lupin shifted uncertainly on his feet.

"Yes…" he said, questioningly. The Auror continued to stare at him, and Lupin's eyes flickered briefly to Tonks's, showing her the depth of his confusion and discomfort. Finally, the Auror shook his head and made a strange wheezing sound that might have been a laugh.

"Sorry lad, it's just that… well, from James and Sirius's stories, I honestly didn't expect you to be so… _young_."

Slowly, incrementally, an incredulous smile began to form on Professor Lupin's face. His eyes narrowed at the man in front of him.

"Are you – are you… Mad-Eye?"

The man grunted, obviously not keen on his nickname.

"Aye, that's what those buggers call me. The name's _Alastor_. Alastor Moody. I looked for you up at the castle, but Dumbledore said I'd find you here. I wanted to congratulate you on the crop of Auror cadets you seem to have plucked out of thin air. I take it these attack dogs of yours are some of them?"

Professor Lupin was now grinning unabashedly, clearly almost giddy with relief as he ran both hands through his mop of hair. The tension in the room vanished, and his students finally stopped shooting death glares at the intruder, now that they were sure he was not there to drag their favorite professor off to Azkaban. Tonks – remembering Alastor Moody's name from her letter of acceptance – felt a surge of embarrassment. This was the man who, in a few short months, would be training her as an Auror. Shit. She _really_ needed to work on her first impressions.

A minute later, the five teenagers found themselves back in the corner booth, sitting beside their current professor and the strange-looking Auror. Moody (or Mad-Eye, which seemed an appropriate nickname) took occasional swigs from a copper hip flask, and raised an eyebrow as Lupin took a sip of butterbeer.

"Don't tell me you're not even old enough to have a real drink!" he barked, and beckoned to Rosmerta, ignoring Lupin's protests that butterbeer suited him just fine. Rosmerta, who clearly knew Moody, bustled over with a harried smile.

"A brandy for me, lass," he said. "And a Firewhiskey for the kid. That is, if you are actually of age?"

He turned to Professor Lupin, only half jesting. The teenagers snorted into their butterbeers, but Tonks had to admit that, at that moment, Moody had a valid point. For some reason, Lupin always looked vastly younger right after the full moon, his eyes brighter and his face unlined and full of energy. Add to that a shirt that was even more rumpled than usual and a severe case of bed hair, and he really didn't look any older than his students.

Professor Lupin flushed, looking mildly annoyed by Moody's question and the teenager's amused response to it.

"I'm of age, Moody," he grumbled. But Rosmerta was looking at him with skeptical eyes. She had clearly never seen him before, and had no way of knowing that he was a Hogwarts professor. The Three Broomsticks had had trouble in the past with underage drinking, and now she was a stickler for true age spells on anyone she didn't know.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said tentatively, "but could I possibly check? Sometimes children do all sorts of things to make themselves look older, and I just can't risk serving someone who isn't of age."

Lupin went, if possible, even redder. The teenagers were now practically in fits of laughter, and even Moody looked mildly amused by the situation he had accidentally gotten the young man into.

"I don't need a drink…" Lupin protested quietly, looking extremely uncomfortable. But Rosmerta was already flourishing her wand at him. A puff of blue smoke burst from the end of it, twisting around Lupin's head and then forming itself into a number that hovered over the table for a second before dissipating.

_22_

The teenagers stopped laughing quite abruptly. They gaped at their professor, eyes wide with shock. They had known that Professor Lupin couldn't be much older than his mid-twenties, but twenty-two?

As Rosmerta bustled away, the young man shifted awkwardly in his seat, fiddling with his butterbeer glass as he avoided eye contact with his flabbergasted companions. Moody was also staring at Lupin, but his normal eye was filled, not with surprise, but with a sudden, sad understanding.

"I'm sorry, lad," he said quietly. It sounded like he was apologizing for a lot more than accidentally exposing Lupin's youth to his students. The werewolf's eyes flickered up to Moody's, giving him an unreadable look, before quickly returning to his glass. Tonks suddenly remembered what her cousin had said over Christmas break – James and Sirius had met Lupin in Eastern Europe right after the destruction of Kamena, more than five years ago. He would have been seventeen. Younger than she was now, and in the middle of a war zone.

"Why did you come all the way from London to talk to me, Moody? Surely it wasn't just to figure out how old I am."

Moody gave an almost imperceptible wince at the mild bitterness in Lupin's voice.

"I'm actually here to offer you a job," he said, handing Rosmerta a few coins when she returned with their drinks. Lupin brought confused eyes up to meet Moody's gaze as the older man thrust a large tumbler of firewhiskey at him.

"I already have a job," Lupin said, grasping the tumbler absentmindedly.

"I know that," Moody said, taking a large swig of his brandy. "This would be more of a part-time thing. We were all pretty impressed with this lot," he jerked his head towards the teenagers who sat quietly beside them, "and when we found out who's been teaching them all year… well, we want you to come teach a few classes for the Auror Training Program."

Lupin stared at him blankly. But Tonks's heart leapt. She had been half dreading graduation, knowing that she would be seeing far less of Professor Lupin after she left Hogwarts.

"That's brilliant, Professor!" she exclaimed. "We'll still get to see you!"

But Lupin seemed far less enamored with the concept.

"I – I don't know if that's such a good idea," he said, looking nervous. He took a large gulp of the amber liquid in his glass, then coughed as some of it went down the wrong pipe. Moody looked at him in equal parts confusion and concern.

"You alright, kid?"

Lupin nodded, his eyes watering. He took another, smaller sip of whiskey, then spoke again.

"I appreciate the offer, Alastor, I really do. But I'm just not in a position to do that right now."

"Why not?" Moody asked gruffly. "You're the best DADA teacher Hogwarts has seen in years, and I think you could really do a lot for the Auror cadets. Merlin knows, they need the help!"

A loud snort and a grim smile told them all just how highly Moody thought of his trainees.

"Seems like they're all either completely useless, or they've already bought into Umbridge's bigoted, dictatorial idea of how the Ministry should be run. From what James and Sirius have told me, you might be able to give them a more realistic view of the world and what actually needs to be done in it."

Professor Lupin was looking at Moody thoughtfully, his hazel eyes intense. A long moment passed, and the grey-haired Auror sipped his brandy.

"Well? What do you think?"

Lupin's eyes searched Moody's. Even the Auror's wild eyeball was now focused on the young man. Finally, Lupin took a deep breath.

"I can't, Alastor. I wish I could, I really do. But I wouldn't be able to get to the Auror Department. I wouldn't even be able to get through the Ministry doors."

Moody's eyebrows knitted in confusion, and the teenagers looked at each other quizzically. But then Tonks remembered going to the Ministry of Magic for the practical exam portion of the Auror application. Every entrance to the Ministry was flanked by sensors that read the body makeup of the people who entered. She had been immediately identified as a Metamorphmagus, and had had to wear a bright red badge with the word emblazoned upon it. She had been mortified at the time, but the euphoria of how well she had done on the exam had driven it from her mind until now.

She looked at Professor Lupin in alarm. If those sensors could identify a Metamorphmagus, then they would certainly identify a werewolf. And as Moody's eyes gradually widened, thoroughly taking in the network of scars that traced across Lupin's exposed skin, she could tell that he was putting two and two together. She watched, transfixed, as the Auror's vivid blue eye dropped to Lupin's chest, and the rapid intake of breath and subsequent muttered oaths that burst from Moody's mouth indicated that the eye could, indeed, see through clothing. She wasn't sure whether to be more horrified that Moody could literally see anybody naked if he wanted to, or that whatever scars extended to the rest of Lupin's body were bad enough to warrant such a reaction from this battle-hardened veteran.

Professor Lupin's jaw tightened as he stared at Moody almost defiantly. The older man's eye finally flickered back up to meet Lupin's gaze, and Tonks was relieved to see that his expression held nothing but grim respect for the young werewolf across the table.

"You've got real guts, kid," he said, his voice low and intense. "You're also a fucking idiot, telling me like that. How do you know I'm not some racist bugger who's gonna rat you out to the WCU?"

Professor Lupin smiled wryly.

"James and Sirius tell _me_ stories too. Then you made that crack about Umbridge, and I knew I could trust you."

Moody gave him a long, hard look. Then, suddenly, he wheezed with laughter.

"Fair enough. I take it you lot already knew?"

He was addressing the teenagers at the table, who nodded.

"All the seventh years know, sir," Tonks said, nervous to be speaking to this man who would soon be her instructor and superior, but forcing herself to sound confident. "And a lot of the younger students as well. Professor Lupin pretty much told us."

Moody shot Lupin an incredulous look.

"You _what_? Sirius told me you were insane, but I doubt _he_ even thought you were _that_ crazy. Do you have a death wish? Why in Merlin's balls would you tell a bunch of kids that you're a werewolf?"

He practically hissed the last part, his magical eye whirling around furtively. Lupin looked at him defiantly.

"Because I want them to see me for _who_ I am, with full knowledge of _what_ I am. Maybe if they can learn not to hate _me_ , they can learn not to hate other Dark Creatures too."

Moody gaped at him, open-mouthed. Professor Lupin drained his firewhiskey, and Tonks watched his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He was looking surprisingly relaxed for such an intense conversation, and she wondered just how much of a lightweight he was.

"Are you sure you don't want to teach the Auror cadets?"

Moody had regained his voice. He was looking at Professor Lupin intently.

"Lad, I _need_ someone like you to teach these kids. I'm sure we can find a way around the sensors, there must be potions you can take…"

"Alastor," Lupin interrupted, holding up a hand. "I'm more than pushing my luck as it is. When I told these kids the signs of lycanthropy in a human, I didn't expect to last another night at Hogwarts. To be completely honest, I went into this year fully expecting to be arrested at the end of it. When you came in that door, I really thought you were here to drag me off to Azkaban. I think all my students did too, hence the not very warm welcome."

He shot an affectionate glance at the teenagers at the table, and Moody looked at Tonks with what might have been grudging respect. Lupin continued.

"But somehow, against all odds, here I am. Free. Sitting in a pub, surrounded by people who _know_ that I'm a werewolf, and somehow _don't care_. Do you have any idea how much that means to me? It could end tomorrow, somebody could let something slip and the WCU could come for me. But tonight, right now, I am living. I am _living_ , not just surviving. Severus makes Wolfsbane for me, I'm teaching some incredible students, I can send my paycheck back to Bulgaria to help people I care about…"

He paused, almost overcome with emotion. He wiped a hand across his mouth, taking in a deep breath.

"I know it's not especially brave of me, but… I don't want to rock the boat. I can't… I can't risk it. Not yet. It's not just the sensors, it's the bloody WCU bastards I'd run into in the hallway, or Umbridge, or the members of HAWE who I _know_ are in the Ministry, or just… just _everybody_."

He looked up, and his companions could see the panic beginning to form behind his eyes. Moody leaned forward, grabbing Lupin's wrist in much the same way that Lupin had grabbed Stan's only an hour before.

"Hey," the older man said. "Calm down, lad, it's okay. I'm sorry. It wasn't fair for me to ask that of you. You're already risking too much as it is."

Lupin swallowed, his breath shallow and fast. Tonks was forcefully reminded of just how hard the past few days must have been for him. Moody, looking at the young man critically, obviously concluded that Lupin was upset enough to warrant more alcohol. He pressed his flask into the man's hand.

"Here. Drink this, it'll make you feel better."

Raising an eyebrow questioningly, Lupin took a swig of the unknown liquid. Moody and the teenagers laughed out loud when he clapped a hand to his mouth to keep from spitting it out. He swallowed it with difficulty, looking at the flask like it had betrayed him.

"What the fuck is _that_?" he asked, when he could finally speak again.

"Goblin moonshine," Moody said, grinning. "It's good for keeping warm on cold nights, and getting your mind off unpleasant things."

"It's definitely doing unpleasant things to my liver right now…" Lupin said, handing the flask back to Moody, who took a swig with no difficulty. Replacing the cap, Moody put the flask away and turned back to Lupin.

"Well, I'd best be off. Good to finally meet you, Lupin. I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you. And if this lot is anything to go by," he jerked his head at the teenagers, "then you're doing something right, here. Keep it up."

And with that he stumped out, wooden leg thumping across the floor unevenly.

 

Thanks so much for the kudos everyone!


	16. Chapter 16

The seventh years were slowly meandering back to the castle. It was nearly midnight, and the path was lit by the light of a newly waning moon. Tonks found herself strolling along next to Lupin, an awkward silence stretching between them.

It was the first chance they'd had to really talk since she practically accosted him in the Great Hall, but somehow, she had no idea what to say to him. She was now fairly certain that what had started out as a repressed and denied schoolgirl crush was now full-blown attraction, and she caught herself glancing over at him much more than was necessary or discreet. She thought she caught him looking over at her once or twice as well, but it might have just been a trick of the light.

Her heart leapt when he cleared his throat.

"Tonks, I – uhh…"

Not an auspicious start. But it was comforting to know that she was not the only one who had no idea what to say. She allowed herself to look at him, praying that her feet wouldn't take the lapse of concentration as an opportunity to betray her and send her tumbling to the ground.

"Yes, Professor Lupin?"

For some reason, he grimaced when she addressed him. He looked over at her, meeting her eyes furtively.

"I'm… I'm not going to be your professor for much longer. You're not always gonna call me that, are you?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion, but inside her stomach was doing flip-flops. She would very much like to call him something else, something that put her on equal footing with him.

"Don't you like being a professor?"

"Of course I do, it's just… 'Professor Lupin' makes me sound so old, especially coming from you."

She smiled at him.

"I thought you wanted to seem old," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "You're the one who hid the fact that you're only four years older than the rest of us."

He gave her an embarrassed smile, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"Touché," he said, then after a moment of hesitation, "I just want you to know that after graduation, you're more than welcome to call me Remus. I'd like that."

She had to turn away from him, for fear that if she looked at his self-conscious hazel eyes any longer, she would jump on him right then and there.

"Okay," she said, smiling to herself. "But when am I going to get a chance to do that? After I graduate, I won't see very much of you…"

She did her best to keep the mournful tone out of her voice, feeling incredibly stupid and childish. A warm hand on her arm pulled her to a stop, turning her to face its owner. She suddenly realized that they had fallen far behind the others, and now stood alone in the moonlit lane. Looking up, she saw that Lupin was standing close enough to her that she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He was looking at her intently.

"Of course you'll see me," he said, but then looked immediately uncertain, as though he had overstepped a boundary. "I mean – if you want to, of course."

His hand was still on her upper arm, gently grasping it and sending tendrils of warmth through her entire body. She was certain that he had completely forgotten about it, and had no idea how much his touch was affecting her. He looked down at her with eyes that shone with a vulnerability that made her heart ache.

"I… I was hoping we could be friends."

The simple words were spoken with such fragile hope that Tonks found herself utterly speechless, unable to express her feelings of _Yes! In Merlin's name, yes!_ At her stunned silence, Lupin's eyes dropped, and he removed his hand from her arm, taking a small step back even as she tried to find the words to keep him close to her.

"Dora, do you even realize what you did for me in the Great Hall two days ago?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. He gave her no time to think of any.

"For the past five years, the only other people who've even touched me, knowing full well that I was werewolf, were either Dark Creatures themselves or were trying to kill me. And then you came along and hugged me in front of the whole school. I can't… I can't even begin to express how much that meant to me."

Tonks was aghast when she felt tears starting to form in her eyes, and suddenly words were no longer eluding her.

"That's – that's fucking stupid!" she cried out, alarmed by how angry she was at the injustice of it all. "It's stupid, and bloody unfair. You're an incredible person, why are people such wankers? What I did was nothing, you shouldn't have to feel so amazed that I hugged you, that should be something you get every day - "

She was abruptly, gloriously cut off by his warm lips crashing against hers. She gasped instinctively, and tasted the traces of Firewhiskey in his mouth. His large hands were framing her face, and she grasped the front of his shirt with trembling hands. Was this really happening? Had she somehow fallen into a dream? If she had, she never wanted to wake up, because his tongue sweeping across hers was shooting fireworks into every corner of her brain. She had had a few boyfriends over the years – some decent snogs and one incredibly awkward shag. But this… this was in another realm entirely.

It was over far too soon. Lupin suddenly tore himself away from her and stumbled back, looking horrified at what he had just done. For a long moment, they stared at each other with wide eyes, both breathing heavily.

" _Fuck._ "

Lupin broke the silence with a loud curse, bringing his hands up to his hair and gripping it wildly, looking like he wanted to cry.

"Dora, I am _so sorry_ ," he said, holding out his hands to her in a placating gesture that just confused her. "I'm… fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know what just came over me – it won't happen again – you… you can't get it from saliva, I _promise_ – "

" _I kissed you back, Remus!_ "

Her impassioned cry abruptly silenced the young man's guilt-ridden ramblings. He looked utterly shocked, as though he was only just beginning to realize that yes, she had kissed him back. Emphatically.

"I don't bloody care that you're a werewolf," she said, her voice low and intense as she tried her best to hammer the point home. "I wanted you to kiss me. And I know that I can't get lycanthropy from saliva, and the fact that you feel like you have to say that is fucking wrong."

Her words echoed in the silence as he gaped at her.

"You… you _wanted_ me to kiss you?"

His voice was dramatically higher than usual, surprise making his voice crack like a teenage boy's. Despite the intensity of the situation, Tonks couldn't help but smile at the shock and undeniable elation in his eyes. She nodded, stepping closer to him cautiously like he was an easily spooked wild animal.

"Yes, I did," she said, not even sure where her sudden courage was coming from. He continued to stare at her as she moved closer, his breath rapid and shallow as she finally stopped within inches of him, close enough so she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She tilted her chin to look up at him. They were _so close_. All she needed to do was rise up on her tip-toes…

Suddenly, large hands on her shoulders guided her back to a more appropriate distance. It looked like it was taking every ounce of Lupin's self-control to resist her, but the rejection still stung. She pulled away from his hands, looking at him in confused hurt.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tonks," he said softly, and it looked like every word he spoke was physically painful for him. "I can't."

"Why not?" she asked, desperately trying to regain some semblance of self-control before she started crying. He looked nearly as miserable as she felt.

"Why not?" he echoed, as though the question was absurd. "I can give you about twenty reasons why not. I'm still your professor, for one thing! Dumbledore can look past the fact that I'm a werewolf, but I doubt he'd be too happy if I took advantage of one of my _students_."

"You're not _taking advantage_ of me!" she cried. "You're barely older than I am – "

"That doesn't matter, Dora! I'm still in a position of authority, it's inappropriate!"

She glared at him mutinously, and he sighed, running his hand through his hair again.

"Look," he said, sounding weary. "I'm sorry. I don't normally drink, and it makes me a little… well, I do things that I shouldn't do. Kissing you most definitely falls into that category. I'm sorry that it confused you, it won't happen again."

Confusion was rapidly beginning to turn into righteous anger in Tonks's mind. Ten minutes ago, she'd had no clue whether Lupin returned any of her feelings. Now, she was almost certain that he did, in full and then some. But he was retreating, he was running away, and his reason was only temporary.

"Graduation is in three weeks," she said boldly, staring him down. "You won't be my professor any more. What then?"

He looked genuinely flabbergasted by her question, and for a moment it seemed as though he had forgotten how to breathe. Finally, with a small cough, he spoke.

"I don't… I don't really understand. Do you… Dora, I'm a _werewolf_. You don't actually want to _be_ with me."

It was not a question, and it brought her back to the same angry rant that she had been on when he had so pleasantly interrupted her. Something about the way he automatically dismissed any possibility that she might genuinely like him made her irrationally upset.

"Why is that so difficult to believe?" she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "You've been lecturing us all year about how Dark Creatures deserve to be treated the same as humans! And yet you stand there, saying that because you're a werewolf, I shouldn't want to be with you. Shouldn't want you to even _touch_ me. _I do_. And it's not just some stupid schoolgirl crush. I'm eighteen years old, and I'm going to be a fucking Auror cadet in two months time. I'm not some wilting bimbo you're 'taking advantage of'. I'm a woman who knows a good man when she _sees_ one."

Rant over, Tonks glared at him, her nostrils flared in anger and her breathing fast and irregular. Lupin was gaping at her, speechless, but right when she was beginning to think that she might have actually convinced him, he blinked and dropped his gaze, clearing his throat and shaking his head like he was trying to escape some sort of crazy daydream.

"Tonks, you are one of the most remarkable people I've ever met. You really are. This has nothing to do with who _you_ are. If I were a normal 22-year old, I'd ask you out the moment you graduated."

He looked back up at her, and she could see just how much this was hurting him, just how sorry he was to have done this to her.

"But I'm not. I'm _not_ normal, I'm a Dark Creature. And while you and a lot of your friends seem to be okay with that, the rest of the world most definitely isn't. Being with me wouldn't just be dangerous – it would be emotional suicide. My life is forfeit, every moment of every day. If my condition is exposed, I'll be _lucky_ if the WCU finds me first. Azkaban will be a blessing compared to what the anti-Dark Creature groups will do to me if they find out I've been teaching their children all this time. And even if my lycanthropy isn't exposed in Britain, I still have to go back to Bulgaria to try and help the people there. It's incredibly dangerous, it's often completely pointless, but I can't abandon them, I can't just give up, I have to know my family didn't die for _nothing_ – "

He stopped abruptly, clamping a hand over his mouth and stepping even further away from her. Tonks's heart froze. Her stomach felt like she had swallowed a cannonball. She found herself hoping, praying that she hadn't heard him correctly; that she had somehow misunderstood…

But when he finally looked back up at her, there were tears in his eyes. And she knew. His family was dead.

She took a small step forward, reaching out a hand to him helplessly. How could she do anything? How could she even begin to comfort him? He backed away from her, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Miss Tonks," he said, his voice choked with emotion. "The fact of the matter is that I probably don't have long for this world. And neither do any of the people who associate with me. I can't… _I will not do that to you_. I'm sorry."

He stepped backward, giving her one last achingly unhappy look before turning away. And by the light of the waning moon, she watched as he swiftly disappeared into the forest, melting into the trees with the ease of someone who had grown up amongst them.

Eighteen-year old Metamorphmagus extraordinaire Nymphadora Tonks stood in the lane leading to Hogwarts, practically unable to breathe. Part of her wanted to scream in anger. Why had he kissed her, only to run away? How could he be so careless? But a larger part of her understood his actions entirely. And so she stood alone, tears streaming down her face, mourning a family she never knew and cursing the world that could be _so cruel_.

 

 

Thank you so much for the comments and kudos!


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